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Writing Contest #18 - Entries
What IfIf only I hadn’t gone out when I did. I knew full well that it was the very worst time of day to leave the house.
I hate that time of the day too - the gloaming. It even sounds gloomy. The colours all blurred like they've been through the wash with a pair of cheap, black jeans.
I’m one of those who likes to feel the sun on their face and see the sky all blue and high up out of reach. Not like this, as though it’s a lid shutting us all in.
I can’t believe this is it for me now; all because I fancied a bit of real butter on my toast instead of that ghastly stuff in a tub.
If only I’d put on some decent shoes or at the very least stuck me teeth in. I haven’t a clue what I’m even supposed to do now.
The chap what done it to me didn’t leave me any instructions.
I shall feel a complete fool having to approach strangers and explain how the blood lust was upon me but I’d forgotten me teeth and, ‘Oh by the way, would you mind opening a vein for me?’
What a MessI've made so many bad decisions in my life. So many places where I could have taken the other fork in the road. When Mum comes to visit she always says, "It's never too late!" Sometimes it is though.
I should have stayed on at school and gone to university but I couldn't wait to get out into the world and start earning my own money. That's where I met Frank. He was a salesman and looking back, he was the classic oily tick. He was a cliché in a sharp suit.
I shouldn't have gone out with him. I did though, because I was young and naive and easily swept off my little feet. The next bad decision was letting him move into my flat. He would never think of marrying - why burn down your house to boil as kettle, he'd say. Once he was settled in though, you'd think it was his own place and I was just the staff. I should have thrown him out then. I shouldn't have let him knock me around. I should have had more self-respect. And if only I hadn't stabbed him, I wouldn’t be here in prison.
Breaking FreeThere was only one thing I ever wanted for my sister: for her to be happy in love and not end up divorced like my mum. Of course it was dad who ran off with another woman and left my mum to raise two kids. My mum’s a saint, like most women are.
My sister met a man six years ago and he seemed perfect to us all. She had a child with him four years ago and was married last year. Now she’s divorced and my niece is left to grow up divided between two homes. If only my sister had revealed the truth earlier: underneath the mask he put on he was manipulative and controlling. He’d flip out if my sister changed the curtains, or get his mother-in-law to check the holiday bags she’d packed for their daughter as he didn’t trust my sister to pack the right things. There was no love or compromise – just control.
She married him hoping he would change, that being his wife would create the respect she wanted. I’m proud she got free of his clutches in the end; just sorry my niece is caught in the middle of it.
For the Want of an "If Only""If Only..." Those were the words written in red ink on the report cover in his hands as he waked to the podium.
"If only we could have checked things more. Done more..." he muttered under his breath
“£22 Billion wasted all for the want of an 'if Only' "
He could still hear the statements in his head:
"If only we run the tests one more time" the designer said
"If only we checked the materials more closely" another said
"If only the parts were double checked when fitting" a technician said.
He reached the podium and grabbed it to keep from fainting "If only we could start again. But we cannot"
The quiets as everyone listens.
"The loss of the craft, however tragic, gives us hope. It is said their is no such thing as a failed experiment, with each failure we learn a bit more about ourselves and our task ahead of us." He looks around the room, taking his time.
He never did like audiences. But today is different as he knows their is much more to come. He must get through this, and this fear building in his chest will subside soon.
It always did.
Bad LuckIf only my best mate Dennis hadn’t given me a bad tip on the markets, it wouldn’t have happened.
If I hadn’t been broke, I’d have had a phone, a car. A jacket without a dodgy zip.
If it hadn’t been windy, we wouldn’t have gone kite-flying. Obviously.
If Dennis hadn’t had a bigger kite than me, he wouldn’t have gone showing off.
If he hadn’t been showing off, he wouldn’t have tripped on that loose rock and bust his leg.
If he hadn’t bust his leg, I wouldn’t have gone back to his car to use his phone to call an ambulance.
If I hadn’t used his phone, I wouldn’t have seen the texts from my missus. Very intimate.
If I hadn’t seen the texts, I wouldn’t have gone back and done him in with that loose rock.
If I hadn’t thought I could get away with it, I wouldn’t have gone back to nick his car. Never there, was I?
If it hadn’t been windy, the door wouldn’t have slammed, on my jacket. Locked. Keys inside.
If it hadn’t been a dodgy zip, stuck closed, I’d have slipped it and gone.
Ah, there’s the siren. Ambulance? If only.
Je Ne Regrette RienThe shop was quiet. Hardly seen a customer through the door all morning and we'd run out of things to do. I'd given the two youngsters the job of re-arranging the breakfast cereals but it was obvious their hearts weren't in it. No-one with pride in their job would put Analwheat next to Choco HyperPuffs now would they?
Still, a job's a job and life's what you make it, isn't it. I've always tried hard to make the best of it, and give my kids what they want. Like when Jojo came in looking for sweets and I gave him my last pound, saved warm in my pocket for the syndicate. Cos everyone knows your numbers never come up and I couldn't let that little face go unhappy could I?
“Here Tiff, you want to come in on the lottery this week?” asked Freda, as usual. “No,” says I, “I'll give it a miss this week, put me down for next week eh luv?”
If only I'd had another pound in my pocket, I could have handed in me notice on the Monday too, along with Freda and the other girls.
If only I'd had another pound...
Never Woke Up This MorningIf only I hadn’t stubbed my toe
If only I hadn’t sat down to rest my throbbing foot
If only it hadn’t been at that particular road junction I chose
If only I hadn’t tried to dull the pain with booze
If only I hadn’t fallen asleep
If only the drink hadn’t fuelled such lurid dreams
If only I hadn’t woken up in the middle of that particular dream
If only I’d shaken myself fully awake and realised it was for real
If only I’d pawned my guitar and bought a bus ticket
If only the devil didn’t have all the best tunes
If only I’d worn gloves and he not be able to see my calluses
If only I’d been strong enough to resist his infernal offer
If only I’d practised enough to reach such proficiency under my own steam
If only there wasn’t such an appetite for Blues music
If only I still had a soul of my own, rather than seeing it possess the music
If only I wasn’t sleepwalking through life these days
If only… if only… if only…
Only the sickle survives the harvestI that bred the sickle blood,
Was born on widow’s weed,
That ventures out on sultry nights
To gluttonously feed,
Saw a lily on your chest,
Anguished face and fever dew,
By your side a loved one wept,
For this my sorrow’s true.
I used post-anaesthetic feed
to try and ease your pain.
Oblivious, I was, quite unaware,
That another stood to gain.
From when I woke and found myself
In a green and stagnant pool,
A parasite has been with me
And used me for a fool.
If only I’d been something else,
A rabbit, dog or cat,
A creature people love to love,
I could have lived with that.
But with regret I carry on,
For, if only, does no good.
I was born on widow’s weed,
And breed the sickle blood.
If only I wasn't dead lucky.My wife ignores me.
I shout, “Hey! I’m here!” She just stares.
I bellow, “LISTEN!”
She won’t hear me. Not now. She’s too upset. Her face twists. She’s crying again. She’s just been to my funeral.
The worst thing about being dead is not being able to communicate. I’ll get through if it kills me.
Joan, her mother, comes in with her dog. She sits in my chair with a large glass of my whisky.
Ever practical, she asks, “How are you for money?”
My wife ignores the question. “He knew I’d be back by nine. He phoned to say he’d meet me. Going too fast they say. What was so important?”
She’s said that fifty times.
I’d love to answer both questions.
Joan’s dog growls – it knows I’m here! I snarl back. Its hackles rise and it yaps. Joan frowns at it. I back into the hall. The dog follows, yapping constantly. Its owner follows us.
I lead them into my ‘den’.
I bawl, “WE’VE WON THE LOTTERY! THE TICKET’S IN THAT DRAWER!”
She looks around and calls, “What a mess – just like the garage. I’ll get someone in tomorrow to clear them.”
I punch her. She feels nothing.
If only I had chosen one of the others. I was living a bohemian life in London. By night, that is - by day I was a teacher. I considerd myself to be a Woman of this Fab Fifties World
I basked in the admiration of three suitors at the same time - an artist, a docker, a teacher - and I married the latter after a very short courtship on the basis of poetical promises of respectability, material comfort and literary compatability.
The artist was more exciting, the docker more handsome but the perks that came with Justin were irresistible. His own flat, tastefully furnished, a sleek sports car, a dressmaker mother who ran up the most exquisite trousseau for me ...
The ceremony was brief, the marriage feast not much longer. I flung my bouquet across the car park aiming it at our headmistress. Then we drove home to start our wedded life.
He suggested I use the bathroom first. I imagined him cracking open a bottle of champagne, sprinkling the bed with rose petals, spraying himself with manly cologne. Did I mention he had a big bushy red beard?
I came out in my pink silk negligée to find him waiting - wearing an identical nightie and six inch heels.
If only ifIf only I hadn’t left the bath running, then the bathroom wouldn’t have flooded, the ceiling wouldn’t have cracked, the water wouldn’t have dripped into the living room, the TV wouldn’t have blown up, the cat sitting on the window sill wouldn’t have jumped down, next door’s dog wouldn’t have chased after the cat, the postman wouldn’t have been bitten for getting in the way, the postman’s wife wouldn’t have moaned at him, they wouldn’t have had a falling out, or a divorce, the lawyer wouldn’t have made more money, the car showroom owner wouldn’t have sold that Ferrari to the lawyer, that Ferrari wouldn’t have ran down the cat, wouldn’t have made the children cry, wouldn’t have had me trying to bury it on a cold, autumn morning, and wouldn’t have ruined my day. If only…
Silly JudIt was dark and damp and he lay in silence. His pray was twenty or thirty feet away, moving slowly. His night vision goggles could penetrate the darkness but not the foliage so he lay and waited for a closer, clearer shot. Hunter and prey; cat, and mouse. He was always the cat. Carefully, silently, he altered his position. His stomach ached. An unwelcome distraction. Controlling food and fluids was paramount for the hunt. The altered routine was unwise; the prunes on his porridge a mistake. But it wouldn’t matter. She only had a knife and he... His lips curled in a smile. There was only one way out. Through him. Seven shots. Pistol versus steel. No contest. She was moving towards him now. He concentrated, honing his senses, controlling his breathing, waiting for her to reach the gap in the foliage, the clear shot.
Drips of moisture pattering from the canopy above spooked her behind a tree. He waited. His stomach rumbled. A high pitched gurgling wine. No! She spun round, knife raised. She had heard. Quick as lightening he half stood and fired. She threw faster. He fell, the knife in his neck. If only he’d left the prunes.
What a brilliant collection of stories. I'm off to vote now.I keep meaning to enter this great competition, but I always seem to get informed about the entries and not about entering... I need to be more vigilant.
The Poll is now open. If you voted before the entry 'Silly Jud' was visible then your vote won't count (only 4 of you) and you can vote again now!Vote here :
http://www.goodreads.com/poll/show/91...
Hi Ken,I don't broadcast the competitions when calling for entries mainly because we would get hundreds of entries. To take part in a competition you have to hang around and wait for the announcement in the group.
I don't know which one to vote for!
eeny meeny miny moe ,too many good ones ,don't know what to vote for ,will leave at moment and go back and read again later
Ken wrote: "What a brilliant collection of stories. I'm off to vote now.I keep meaning to enter this great competition, but I always seem to get informed about the entries and not about entering... I need to..."
It took me ages, to manage to a) read the right thread and b) even approach organising something! I did manage it once though. ;-)
Cheers
MTM
all good, two really stood out. Off to vote for one of them... but which one?
If only ... we could vote for more than one ;)
With so many entries there is no clear leader so please vote. Anyone could win.
Voted! Excellent selection!
Voted - I have the feeling that the decision gets harder every month!
It is a very close vote this time
Gonna settle in to read these once Dave goes to work.
Ha!I keep reciting 'There was an old woman who swallowed a fly'
Cripes, I really need this day off, don't I?
No idea which to vote for yet. Off to read them again...
Well done to whoever wrote the winner!It was the one I voted for (I came second, obviously liked the lottery theme!). A really good selection this time, actually there were a few I could have gone for...
Thanks, Jud, for your efforts in organising these things. They're fun.
Congratulations BJ.I voted for the runner up(go Rosemary!)but it was a very close call.
Really enjoyed this theme!
I voted for the winner :-) well done BJ
Well done BJ - might as well set up a standing order for your vouchers! ;)
Where can I find the results? We seem to have gone straight into congratulating BJ (who is BJ)
Click on the poll link again Flo. It gives you the results once the poll's closed.BJ is BJ Burton - author of a couple of excellent books!
BJ, your certificate has gone.
49 total votes is excellent. I lost my deposit!
It's a fix! I demand a re-count! There are too many unanswered questions that remain unanswered! :)Well done BJ.
What about the unquestioned answers?
Unanswered answers anyone?
My head hurts already, I don't need this kind of malarky!
Ignite wrote: "Well done BJ - might as well set up a standing order for your vouchers! ;)"Thanks, Kath - for the plug as well as the voucher!
I may have won one or two lately, but in between I've had entries get no votes at all. Such is the literary life - lauded one moment, ignored the next.
Shall we ask Jud to come up with the next theme? She does all the work, but can never enter.
I've got lots of unanswered questions about 'Only the sickle survives the harvest'. I think it's stunning. Own up and stand by to take questions.
I think I get off lightly doing what I do, it's you lot that have the hard work.
Well done, BJ. I did enjoy that one!Mine was the poem, If only, which I'm surprised won as many votes as it did!
Clearly no Robert Johnson fans here *sniffle*
Don't mind a bit of delta blues myself!
Mine was Silly Jud - Long story but it's her title, I forgot to give it one. Thank you to my three voters.Cheers
MTM
If only food wrappers weren’t so hard to open.
If only in break-time the biscuits were less broken.
If only money would grow on trees.
Paper tens and twenties instead of all those leaves.
If only the daily newspaper didn’t blacken my hands,
And why does the postman drop all his rubber bands?
If only good weather didn’t cause me to sneeze,
And if only brollies could cope with more than a breeze.
If only my boss weren’t such a big jerk,
I’d maybe enjoy just a little my work.
If only these bills didn’t stuff up my letterbox.
If only there were one hole fewer in each pair of socks.
If only I could make love to my darling wife,
But it no longer rises - I blame the stress of my life.
If only I could see a way out of this mess,
I’d be happy even with just a little less stress.
If only I weren’t drowning in this hell, so deep.
If only I’d die in the midst of my sleep.