Category Archives: A Story a Day

1441. He’s still there

Norbert hadn’t realized he’d died. He got up in the morning totally oblivious to the fact that he had died in his sleep. He made breakfast. He made plans for the day. He even made his bed! In fact he hadn’t made his bed he just thought that he’d made his bed.

It wasn’t until several days went by that he realized no one had any perception of his presence. Everything in Norbert’s existence was simply his imagination. For example, he saw them sell his car, but he still drove it to town. It seemed like he was travelling in his car, but he wasn’t.

The only difference at first was that life would have no end. Fear of death had gone. Immortality reigned. Life had the same pains and joys, the same ups and downs. And then he began to have nightmares. He began to wonder if he was in hell. He began to believe he was in hell. The plummet into hell was a slow and deceitful process. It got worse as the years went by. It became horrific. He began to scream “Let me out! Let me out!” There was no escape.

He’s still there.

1440. Reincarnated

Fenwick had always believed in reincarnation. He wanted to come back as a hawk.

Imagine that, floating high in the sky, swirling about, covering huge distances with barely a flap of a wing. And so agile in the air!

And he did! He returned as a hawk! During his first flight he got shot. Dead.

1439. An engagement party

Herbert and his daughter Dolly were on to a good thing. Dolly was rather photogenic and would post her voluptuousicity on the dating pages of the internet. Some handsome lawyer would soon fall for her, and shower her with requests. Dolly always insisted on gifts sent by some online company or other. There were lots of online catalogues to choose from.

As things went further down the track, they would arrange to meet. The gifts continued of course. That is when Dolly’s father, Herbert, stepped in. No way could they meet with his daughter, he angrily texted. There was to be no further communication.

So far, Dolly has been proposed to forty-two times. Usually she sells the gifts on.

1438. Grape harvest

Tristram was all of eighteen and he was there to help his uncle pick the grapes in his uncle’s not-particularly huge vineyard. Although it was a not-particularly huge vineyard, it still took a good week to harvest the grapes.

There was a house on the vineyard that was rented out. That was where Mr and Mrs Johnson lived with their daughter, Katie. Tristram thought Katie was rather stunning but she took no notice of him.

It was hard on the back bending over to pick the grapes, and hard on the knees if one crouched. Tristram devised a one-legged stool that he tied around his waist and loins. That way he could stand, move and sit, stand, move and sit, along the rows of vines. He looked like a wasp with a great big proboscis sticking out of his bottom.

Katie came out of the house and saw him. She laughed and laughed and laughed. You’re all invited to their Golden Wedding Anniversary party this coming Saturday.

1437. Naming the baby

Choosing a name for the baby is almost impossible these days. It’s a boy and I have been going through lists on the internet and everywhere else.

At first I thought of something simple like John, with no middle name. Just plain John. Then I thought that some people would start calling him Jack, and even though I like John I don’t like Jack.

I also thought of James. But James sounds a bit snooty and upper class. I like Jim but some people would think it stood for James.

It’s the transmutation of names that bugs me. For example, Bartholomew would get shortened to Bart. Michael would get shortened to Mick or Mike. Richard becomes Dick, Anthony becomes Tony, Bernard becomes Barney. The only way around all this would be to go for something unusual, so that’s where I started looking.

So I considered Zenith and Steinway and Fahrenheit. In the end I settled on Caligula. For a few days and then I changed my mind. Perhaps Reginúlfr. What do you think?

Help! I keep changing my mind. I know I have to decide. He starts school on Monday.

1436. Spies

BEFORE TODAY’S STORY – AN ANNOUNCEMENT!

For those of you who knew her, the late Cynthia Jobin’s second book of poetry – “Song of Paper” – published by Bennison Books will be available from Amazon in a couple of days. It contains mainly those poems not in her first book “A Certain Age”.

No one knew that Viktor Plemyannikov was a Russian spy; no one, that is, except for Marjorie McAloon who was a great friend of Viktor Plemyannikov – who was unmarried and without family. In fact she herself was a spy for the British Government.

No one knew that Alphonse Lémieux was a French spy; no one, that is, except for Tessa Blanchard who was a great friend of Alphonse Lémieux – who was unmarried and without family. In fact she herself was a spy for the United States.

Coincidentally, Marjorie and Tessa were great friends, but neither knew the other was a spy.

Anyway, it seemed that Viktor and Alphonse died, apparently on round about the same day. Marjorie went to Viktor’s funeral of course, and Tessa went to Alphonse’s funeral.

Marjorie and Tessa said to each other, “What are you doing here?” It didn’t really matter anyway, because the vicar referred to him as Harry Smith and said he was a great family man.

1435. Demise of a film star

The legendary film star, Fortescue Langworthy, has died aged 97. What an icon!

Two years ago he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Two months back he was diagnosed with bowel cancer and has been receiving experimental treatment in Mexico. He had just returned from Mexico when he came down with pneumonia.

The family have asked for privacy at this sad time.

The cause of death is unknown.