Sample Fiction Work

 

The Key

The Jiffy Bag was A5 size.  It looked as if it had been stuck in the Post Office's possession for a long time.  It was dog eared and water stains had made the ink used to write the address run in several places.  The postmark said South Kensington SW7 23^rd November 1963, the day Dr Who first aired on BBCTV.  The postman was really apologetic. 

“Must have got stuck in the sorting machine mate, happens all the time.”  He smiled.  “You don’t look old enough to have been alive back then though.  What’s your secret?” 

“I think its addressed to my late father, he lived here in the 60’s.”  The package was addressed to Mr F W Warner Esq. 2a Bina Gardens, South Kensington.  My father was also called Fredrick William.  The curse of an old family name.  

“Oh well I guess that explains it.” The postman was slightly crestfallen not to have stumbled on the secret of eternal youth, and headed off around the corner into Old Brompton Road.

 First Day On The Job

“They’ve sent us another one,” said Terry.  “I don’t think she’s much of a looker.”

              Terry was staring through the glass door of the Science staff room.  He was almost

 salivating.  He was like this with every new member of staff.  New meat for the grinder. 

             Walking up the corridor was a very nervous looking young woman, accompanied by

Denise from personnel.

             The girl looked petrified.  She stared down at her new black Mary Janes as she 

scurried along next to the confident striding Denise.  She hid behind her long mousey brown 

hair, her gaze darting from one side to the other avoiding eye contact with anyone she 

passed.  Her Primark suit looked shiny new and unnatural.  In her arms she carried a small 

leather satchel, like a refugee carrying a precious baby from a warzone.

            “Lay off Terry, we need all the help we can get.” 

             In any other school Terry Butler would have been “managed” out years ago. His views

on women and ethnic minorities were best described as “outspoken.”  It was his total 

arrogance that helped him survive in this tough school.  The kids were actually scared of him 

and indeed so were most of the staff.

            “Bet she’s had enough by lunch time, especially if she’s got year 11 before break.”  

Terry walked back to his desk, picked up his coffee cup and walked out, making sure to beam 

his creepy smile in the direction of the newcomer as she entered.

            “Eloise this is Andy Smith, Head of Science.” said Denise.  “He’ll be able to answer 

any queries you have.  Come and find me in the office at the end of the day.”

            “Hi, grab a seat.”  I offered my hand, as Denise left and Eloise shook it tentatively.  

Her eyes briefly met mine and darted away to the floor.  “Have you been teaching for long?”

            “Just qualified.” Her voice was gentle and she sounded terrified.  She was a rabbit in 

the headlights.  Terry was being optimistic about her, if she went into a class like this she’d be 

done by break.

The House Viewing

            “I think you’ll find that this little beauty is exactly what you’re looking for my friend.”  

The estate agent exuded false charm and confidence in the same way a slug secretes a 

mucus trail.  I smiled and glanced again at the details of the house to cover my contempt for 

him.

            “Well on paper it ticks a few boxes, shall we go in?”  I tried my best to smile, but I 

found the effort difficult.  Even if the house was perfect, I wasn’t going to buy it from this guy.  

I disliked him on sight, and as soon as he spoke I knew I would hate him even more.

The Odd Job

“I don’t care she’s not going anywhere!”  Her fathers booming voice woke her from her sleep.  She strained to listen to the conversation taking place downstairs.  There were visitors in the house.  She squinted at her alarm clock, 10:30pm.  Carefully stepping barefoot across the boards of her bedroom floor, she crept to her doorway.  Opening the door a crack she tried to hear the conversation.

“Look Declan, this is the thin edge of the wedge, if these things keep happening she’ll end up getting locked up.”  It was Mrs Murphy’s voice, her headteacher. She was pleading with her father. “They’ll not be taking her up at St. Aiden’s, you know that, folk are saying she’s ungodly.”  Her mother began to cry.  “These folk from England, they can help her.”

“Over my dead body,” her father replied.  “We’ll educate her at home, we’ve brought her up right.”  He was still angry although his voice was quieter.  “Ungodly, who do they think they are Marie?”

“No one is saying you haven’t done absolutely everything for your daughter Mr & Mrs O’Reardon.  It’s because she has such special talents that our school is the right place for her.”  A woman’s voice that she didn’t recognise was soft and well spoken.  Her father was not placated.

“She’ll stay at home, we’ll not give her up.”

“That’s your final word is it?”  A man’s voice, well spoken but harder, more impatient.

“Aye, away with you, safe journey back to England.”

She crept back to her bed.  The visitors left and she heard her fathers’ feet on the stairs.  He pushed her bedroom door ajar and looked in.  He stood framed with the landing light behind him.  She pretended to be asleep while he stood there leaning on the frame staring at her.

“They’ll not take you from us darling, we’ll not let them.”  Her fathers’ whispers were barely audible.  He carefully closed her bedroom door and went back downstairs.  She lay there wondering what it all meant.