WINNER 'Summer Loving' Themed Short Story Competition 2015
with Andrew Campbell-Kearsey
Thanks to all entrants to this competition and congratulations to John Bunting from Surrey. He won our 'Summer Loving' competition with his entry 'Anything and Everything'.
Andrew's comments about John's entry: I thought 'Anything and Everything' was surprisingly dark and menacing, yet still keeping to the theme. It stayed with me in a way that the others did not.
John has won first prize which is Andrew's book 'Centurionman', and one free entry to our Open Short Story Competition 2016.
http://erewashwriterscompetition.weebly.com/2016-open-short-story-competition-with-patsy-collins.html
with Andrew Campbell-Kearsey
Thanks to all entrants to this competition and congratulations to John Bunting from Surrey. He won our 'Summer Loving' competition with his entry 'Anything and Everything'.
Andrew's comments about John's entry: I thought 'Anything and Everything' was surprisingly dark and menacing, yet still keeping to the theme. It stayed with me in a way that the others did not.
John has won first prize which is Andrew's book 'Centurionman', and one free entry to our Open Short Story Competition 2016.
http://erewashwriterscompetition.weebly.com/2016-open-short-story-competition-with-patsy-collins.html
John Bunting, 64, started writing flash fiction and short stories as a hobby about three years ago. He enjoys the discipline this type of writing requires – of making every word have a purpose. John has been successful in a number of competitions, and has had several stories published. He says he is still very much ‘learning the trade’ and is trying different genres to see how he gets on with them.
Anything and Everything
“Sorry, James, what did you say?”
“Ah, the Kraken wakes! My shoulder’s gone numb holding you up.”
Lesley rubbed her neck gently. “I must have dozed off.”
James laughed. “That’ll be the three large gins at dinner.” They were sitting on the side of an old dinghy, about half a mile off the coast, their feet caressing the warm sea as they watched the shoals of tiny, black fish dart in and out of the smudges of moonlight. “What I said was: ‘there goes another’… aircraft… landing.” He pointed to the plane whispering its way towards the Island’s little airport, its navigation lights flashing across the constellations they had grown to know so well.
“You and your blooming aircraft.”
“I don’t know how they manage to stop on such a short runway.” James winced, and held his side, hoping Lesley wouldn’t notice. “Do you remember our first flight here?”
“You ask me that every time we come.”
“It was a hell of a journey, though, wasn’t it? Twenty hours in three rickety planes.”
“You were so nervous,” laughed Lesley, “booking a summer holiday so far away. It wasn’t the done thing forty years ago.”
“I was scared stiff you wouldn’t like it.”
“So was I. But then we got off the plane, and that wonderful wall of heat hit us, and we smelt the wild orchids. We fell in love with the Island there and then. And that first evening; as we walked along the beach, watching the sun set out at sea, and listening to the Nightingjades singing…. it was like the Island was welcoming us.”
James nodded. “More than that; like it was telling us we belonged here. The couple we sat with for dinner that first week said the same. They’d been spending summer here for years; said they could never go anywhere else. It’s funny we never saw them again.”
A car’s musical air-horn blared across the water. “Look,” James said, “the coast is lit up like Vegas. It’s changed so much, hasn’t it? The first time we took a dingy out at night, we couldn’t see the Island a hundred yards away. Then the bloody thing broke down, and we drifted for hours. We nearly missed our flight home the next morning. Still, it had its compensations; wasn’t that the night Sophie was conceived?”
Lesley giggled. “That holiday, anyway. And you’ve taken a dingy out on our last night ever since; usually the most rickety.”
“I’ve always tried to hire the same one, or something similar. I’ve had some of my finest moments in those dinghies.”
“In your opinion!”
“Indeed. Seriously though, out here on the water at night I’ve found peace more than anywhere else.”
“You threw up over the side last year. That wasn’t very peaceful.”
“No, that was the goat curry.” James sucked his teeth, and held his side again. “But you know what I mean. You and me, floating through a million stars —”
“Wow! How much have you drunk?”
“— the gentle warmth of the night —”
“You’re rambling.”
“— the smell of the orchids and the sea. And everywhere the silence. It’s how things must have been before… before everything else got in the way. I need to soak it all up; store it for when times get hard. And it was one bottle of wine, by the way.”
Lesley smiled gently. “I do love you.”
James splashed his feet around, as more fish swirled through his toes. “We’ve not done badly have we? What is it, thirty two summers here? I’m surprised they haven’t re-named the airport toilets after us.” He sighed. “It’s been hard, though. We’ve scrimped so much to afford the flights. We hardly go out, and when we do all we ever talk about is our summers here. We never keep friends for long.”
“I’ve no regrets,” said Lesley vehemently. “I love it here. I’d do anything to come back. Every time I do I’ve felt that wonderful welcome; that drawing me in again. The Island means everything to me.”
Me too. “Sophie once asked me why we never brought her; why she always had to stay with your Mum. I think it still hurts her.”
“She’s talked to me about it several times. She believes we were selfish, particularly that year we came so soon after she broke her leg. She said she cried for a week. I hadn’t realised she felt so strongly.”
James shrugged. “I’m sorry she feels that way, but it’s not our fault. It’s the Island that’s selfish, not us. We have to come back, it makes us. I wish people could understand.”
The dinghy bobbed, as a breeze caught it, and the moon faded behind a cloud. James shivered. “There’s a storm coming, I can feel the chill.”
Lesley didn’t seem to hear him. “My favourite place is the Flower Forest. You walk through deep jungle, full of humidity and colour, and then suddenly you come out in that clearing. The sun’s blazing, and you can see down along the beach for miles. I could look at that view for ever.”
They sat quiet for a long time, feet playing in the water, dreaming their Island memories. Eventually, James said, “It must have been a shock for Sophie, your bad news; and coming so soon after mine. What do you think she’s doing?”
“Wondering what to do with us when we get back, I expect.”
James put his arm round Lesley’s shoulder. “Is it hurting a lot?”
“It comes and goes. I think the painkillers are wearing off. What about you?”
“I took some tramadol after dinner.”
“On top of all that wine!”
“It doesn’t really matter any more, does it?”
The dinghy rocked again, more heavily, and the breeze blew stronger. “I’m going cold too,” Lesley said, “I don’t want to stay out here much longer.” She sighed. “I think it’s time to go.”
“Are you sure? Can’t we stay five more minutes?”
Lesley laid her head on his shoulder. “No, darling, my neck hurts a lot, and I’m very tired. It’s time.”
James looked up, trying to pick out the constellations one more time; but they were hidden by the storm clouds. He looked over to the Island, and murmured, “Thank you.” He pulled Lesley close, and kissed her hair, and at the same time pushed the heavy rock off his lap. The rope round their ankles jerked tight, and Lesley gasped as they were pulled off the dingy, and under the water. They struggled for a few moments, something inside them fighting to live, but the struggle was brief. They sank quickly, and soon they were at peace amongst the bones of all those others who had loved the Island and could not leave.
The old dinghy drifted with the tide back towards the coast. There would be other couples. Above, another plane whispered its way towards the airport, and on board a nervous young man held his girl close, and pointed excitedly at the lights below. Their first summer together; how he hoped she would like it here. And the Island felt them coming, and reached out to welcome them.
End
“Sorry, James, what did you say?”
“Ah, the Kraken wakes! My shoulder’s gone numb holding you up.”
Lesley rubbed her neck gently. “I must have dozed off.”
James laughed. “That’ll be the three large gins at dinner.” They were sitting on the side of an old dinghy, about half a mile off the coast, their feet caressing the warm sea as they watched the shoals of tiny, black fish dart in and out of the smudges of moonlight. “What I said was: ‘there goes another’… aircraft… landing.” He pointed to the plane whispering its way towards the Island’s little airport, its navigation lights flashing across the constellations they had grown to know so well.
“You and your blooming aircraft.”
“I don’t know how they manage to stop on such a short runway.” James winced, and held his side, hoping Lesley wouldn’t notice. “Do you remember our first flight here?”
“You ask me that every time we come.”
“It was a hell of a journey, though, wasn’t it? Twenty hours in three rickety planes.”
“You were so nervous,” laughed Lesley, “booking a summer holiday so far away. It wasn’t the done thing forty years ago.”
“I was scared stiff you wouldn’t like it.”
“So was I. But then we got off the plane, and that wonderful wall of heat hit us, and we smelt the wild orchids. We fell in love with the Island there and then. And that first evening; as we walked along the beach, watching the sun set out at sea, and listening to the Nightingjades singing…. it was like the Island was welcoming us.”
James nodded. “More than that; like it was telling us we belonged here. The couple we sat with for dinner that first week said the same. They’d been spending summer here for years; said they could never go anywhere else. It’s funny we never saw them again.”
A car’s musical air-horn blared across the water. “Look,” James said, “the coast is lit up like Vegas. It’s changed so much, hasn’t it? The first time we took a dingy out at night, we couldn’t see the Island a hundred yards away. Then the bloody thing broke down, and we drifted for hours. We nearly missed our flight home the next morning. Still, it had its compensations; wasn’t that the night Sophie was conceived?”
Lesley giggled. “That holiday, anyway. And you’ve taken a dingy out on our last night ever since; usually the most rickety.”
“I’ve always tried to hire the same one, or something similar. I’ve had some of my finest moments in those dinghies.”
“In your opinion!”
“Indeed. Seriously though, out here on the water at night I’ve found peace more than anywhere else.”
“You threw up over the side last year. That wasn’t very peaceful.”
“No, that was the goat curry.” James sucked his teeth, and held his side again. “But you know what I mean. You and me, floating through a million stars —”
“Wow! How much have you drunk?”
“— the gentle warmth of the night —”
“You’re rambling.”
“— the smell of the orchids and the sea. And everywhere the silence. It’s how things must have been before… before everything else got in the way. I need to soak it all up; store it for when times get hard. And it was one bottle of wine, by the way.”
Lesley smiled gently. “I do love you.”
James splashed his feet around, as more fish swirled through his toes. “We’ve not done badly have we? What is it, thirty two summers here? I’m surprised they haven’t re-named the airport toilets after us.” He sighed. “It’s been hard, though. We’ve scrimped so much to afford the flights. We hardly go out, and when we do all we ever talk about is our summers here. We never keep friends for long.”
“I’ve no regrets,” said Lesley vehemently. “I love it here. I’d do anything to come back. Every time I do I’ve felt that wonderful welcome; that drawing me in again. The Island means everything to me.”
Me too. “Sophie once asked me why we never brought her; why she always had to stay with your Mum. I think it still hurts her.”
“She’s talked to me about it several times. She believes we were selfish, particularly that year we came so soon after she broke her leg. She said she cried for a week. I hadn’t realised she felt so strongly.”
James shrugged. “I’m sorry she feels that way, but it’s not our fault. It’s the Island that’s selfish, not us. We have to come back, it makes us. I wish people could understand.”
The dinghy bobbed, as a breeze caught it, and the moon faded behind a cloud. James shivered. “There’s a storm coming, I can feel the chill.”
Lesley didn’t seem to hear him. “My favourite place is the Flower Forest. You walk through deep jungle, full of humidity and colour, and then suddenly you come out in that clearing. The sun’s blazing, and you can see down along the beach for miles. I could look at that view for ever.”
They sat quiet for a long time, feet playing in the water, dreaming their Island memories. Eventually, James said, “It must have been a shock for Sophie, your bad news; and coming so soon after mine. What do you think she’s doing?”
“Wondering what to do with us when we get back, I expect.”
James put his arm round Lesley’s shoulder. “Is it hurting a lot?”
“It comes and goes. I think the painkillers are wearing off. What about you?”
“I took some tramadol after dinner.”
“On top of all that wine!”
“It doesn’t really matter any more, does it?”
The dinghy rocked again, more heavily, and the breeze blew stronger. “I’m going cold too,” Lesley said, “I don’t want to stay out here much longer.” She sighed. “I think it’s time to go.”
“Are you sure? Can’t we stay five more minutes?”
Lesley laid her head on his shoulder. “No, darling, my neck hurts a lot, and I’m very tired. It’s time.”
James looked up, trying to pick out the constellations one more time; but they were hidden by the storm clouds. He looked over to the Island, and murmured, “Thank you.” He pulled Lesley close, and kissed her hair, and at the same time pushed the heavy rock off his lap. The rope round their ankles jerked tight, and Lesley gasped as they were pulled off the dingy, and under the water. They struggled for a few moments, something inside them fighting to live, but the struggle was brief. They sank quickly, and soon they were at peace amongst the bones of all those others who had loved the Island and could not leave.
The old dinghy drifted with the tide back towards the coast. There would be other couples. Above, another plane whispered its way towards the airport, and on board a nervous young man held his girl close, and pointed excitedly at the lights below. Their first summer together; how he hoped she would like it here. And the Island felt them coming, and reached out to welcome them.
End