Unfinished

Checking out "Posts" in this blog's admin and management area, I discovered that I had seventy draft posts to sort through. None of them were complete blogposts and most were just early versions of successfully published posts. However, I also stumbled across the beginnings of a story. It has the feel of a spooky tale.

Soon after I retired from full time teaching, I joined a project that saw me visiting three challenging Sheffield secondary schools - working with individual pupils to boost their English skills.  Unsurprisingly, it was called The One-to-One Project.

One of children I worked with was a thirteen year old boy called Colby. Led by his ideas and word choices, we began to craft a scary story together. For some technical reason that I don't recall, we used a "new post" page from this blog to save the writing during development. 

Working in tandem, he was stimulated by the process but the story itself was never finished. It was slow going and he was absent from school on two or three occasions. Today, Colby will be twenty seven years old and of course I have no idea how his life is now nor how he did in his GCSE exams.

I remember that the title he suggested was "The Lost Schoolgirl". Here with a few amendments is what we wrote and because it is incomplete, I just might bring it to some sort of conclusion this week. Any ideas?

⦿

"I think it's next right", said Annalise, studying the satnav on her smartphone..

"Okay, you mean just here?" asked Liam, turning the steering wheel of their silver Porsche.

Up ahead, beyond soaring sycamores, they could see the old school. It had been empty for over twenty years.

Liam parked up next to the wrought iron gateway. They both got out and checked the external appearance of what they planned would become their new home. It would be their first place together.

"All I can see in my head is the beautiful house that this will be become," beamed Annalise.

They unlocked the main front door. It was a heavy oak door with a black iron ring for a handle. The old hinges creaked as they walked in. Immediately, they noticed how cold it was.

"Don't worry darling, we will buy the best central heating that money will buy," smiled Liam, putting his arm around his new wife. "And there will be a log burner in the lounge just as you dreamed."

Annalise smiled right into his eyes just as she had done at their wedding ceremony in  Healing.

Five weeks later, Liam and Annalise came back to the house to check how their decorators were doing. The lounge had been painted dark purple and there were only a few finishing touches left. The recommended central heating installers from Grimsby had been and gone. And as promised there was now a good-sized log burner in the lounge fireplace

"Wow! It's nearly ready for us to move in darling!" grinned Annalise, hugging her husband.

Indeed, the following week, Liam and Annalise moved in. She instructed the removal men where to put things. As two of these burly fellows were carrying a large, beech-framed mirror upstairs, one of them stumbled and the hefty mirror somersaulted down the stairs, shattering only when it reached the bottom. Annalise was mortified but Liam promised to buy her another even though one might ask - how can you replace a  a family heirloom?

"I'm really sorry!" said the head removal man. "We never usually break  owt!"

After the removal men had gone, Liam and Annalise locked up and drove to the closest supermarket. They bought loads of food to fill their new fridge freezer, spending over £300. By the time they got back to the old school, it was dusk. A flock of crows descended on the bare sycamores near the house and cawed at each other.

Liam and Annalise lugged the supermarket bags into the house and half-filled the pantry and fridge freezer with their provisions. They were both kind of tired after their long day and Liam's back was aching. 

After microwave meals and a helping of television, they decided to enjoy an early night. In the morning, they would get on with the unpacking and try to find homes for everything.


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island

 I needed to remind myself. It is not conformity or popularity I seek. The cross and the center of His will can be a very lonely place. No man is an island. Thomas Merton you had it right. The island is where I find myself. Trying to guard my heart. My tongue. I surrender every day. Praying it sticks. 

Learning to 

Not repay 

Disrespect 

With the

The like

Living out

The commandments

Gets harder 

By the day

The entitlement 

Of man

Seems to increase

With each dollar

Of added wealth

A wrong

Multiplied

By another

Whether justified

Leaves one

No better

Than the perpetrator 

Love me enough 

To give it

Away freely



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Amen

 No TV

For a week 

And limited 

Social presence 

Made me

Content 

More

Than

I’d like 

To admit 

Engaging 

With everyday humans 

Not inflated thoughts 

And hubris 

Seven days 

Is all

It takes 

For you

Lord



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