Ain't nobody got time for that

It's been over two weeks since I published the first three parts of my short story and almost three weeks since my last "regular" blog.

That's the problem with posting as I write - sometimes I write in fits and starts. Inspiration can come to me any time, any place - usually when I'm driving on my own - and I have to nurture the germ of an idea until I have the opportunity to write. Sometimes the opportunity comes hours later and the idea has evaporated. If I'm fast enough, I can use Siri on my phone to dictate a short note about the idea, so I can come back to it later.

Then there are the times when so many ideas come to me that I can't get them all out at once. Like the short story and the blog, four posts in three days. What would be great would be writing things in advance and only publishing them at regular, sensible intervals. But that sounds very organised and, be honest, has anything about this blog so far suggested I've got that level of shit together?

I am very conscious of the fact that many friends say they read the blog when they can, or that they've seen a post but need to remember to go back to read it. So posting in an evenly spaced out manner would maybe help serve as a regular reminder. It really does seem like the best thing to do. Now I just need someone to make me write lots of things in advance and remind me when I'm meant to post them...

Who fancies being an unpaid PA for a scatter-brained amateur writer? Anyone?

Must try harder. Must try harder. Must try-- ooh what's that shiny thing?


Peace and love.

FG xx

Short story, part three

The Shadow Seekers
by Fiona Gibson


Part Three

Aaron opened his eyes and blinked several times. He scrunched up his face and tried to refocus. He was lying down. Wherever he was, it was hot and there was a harsh beeping sound over his right shoulder. When he opened his eyes again he could see bright lights. Was he in a hospital? He closed his eyes and made as if to pinch the bridge of his nose and realised a tube was going into the back of his right hand. He was definitely in hospital.

Pulling all of his focus up to his brain, he reopened his eyes again. He looked down at the hand with the cannula in it then followed the tube up to a drip. Underneath the IV bag a monitor showed his blood pressure and heartbeat. He twisted to see what it said and felt a sharp pain in his left side. Owwwwww! What the--?

He turned gently to find where the pain had come from and saw an attractive woman sitting asleep in an armchair beside him. She was resting her head on her hand and curly black hair was falling down a long thin arm. Her eyebrows were dark and well-groomed, but she had mascara smeared all around her eyes and there was only a faint trace of lipstick on the edges of her lips. He recognised her face but couldn't quite place her. Weirdly, he also recognised her clothes, as though he'd seen the outfit before.

He tried to sit up but the pain in his side came back. F---! He used his free hand to shift his pillows and become more upright. Gingerly he touched his side where it hurt. He realised then that he was topless, if not naked, and that there was a large dressing on his side. He lifted the bedcover and saw paper underpants. Great, he thought, dress to impress. He turned his head to look back at the woman beside him. A twinge of familiarity was burning through the haziness of whatever medication they must have given him. Was her name Clare?

Something clicked into place and everything came flooding to the front of mind at once. Clare! He'd met her at Glenthorn Woods. And Michelle had... Owwww. He touched his side again. That explained it. How long had he been here? Was Clare here the whole time? That was dedication to a relative stranger, he mused.

He looked at her again and a kind of awe began to fill his chest. She had phoned the ambulance. She'd held his hand, stroked his hair... And she was sitting by his hospital bed. Having just met him. How long ago? He glanced around for any sign of what day it was. He lifted his hand to push back his hair then he felt his chin. Stubble. And quite a lot of it. He'd been here for a couple of days! Goddammit, he thought suddenly, she'll have seen the ginger hair in my beard! Aaron kicked himself mentally for feeling vain at a time like this, but this woman had really made an impression already. And his contribution had been getting stabbed and growing a ginger beard.

He rubbed his nose between his fingers and closed his eyes. Movement from the armchair made him open them again.

"Hello sleepy head," Clare smiled. "I was wondering when you'd wake up."

"I could say the same about you." He croaked as he spoke. Wow, he mused, a few days unconscious wrecks your voice. "How long have we been here?"

Clare looked at her watch. "Umm... Two days and... Thirteen hours. You lasted pretty well but you passed out in the ambulance and didn't come round again."

"What happened? Am I alright?" That sounded crazy in the circumstances.

"The knife missed your kidney by half an inch, but... - although, because it stayed in you it wasn't too bad - you lost some blood. I think they said two litres, but there was a lot to take in so I'm not sure. You had a blood transfusion, anyway, but they were pretty confident you'd be alright. I signed the consent forms while they were operating and everything, since I didn't know your next of kin and you didn't seem to have a mobile phone on you for me to call anyone..." Clare trailed off. Aaron thought she looked flushed - was she embarrassed?

"Oh, it's okay... I left my phone in the car when I came to meet you." There'll be one or two missed calls by now, he assumed. "I appreciate everything you've done for me. Hey, you hardly know me. Why should you have done any of this?"

"I'd hardly leave a man dying, stranger or no. And I felt a bit responsible, since your girlfriend seemed to object to you seeing me." She was definitely blushing now.

"That was not my girlfriend. Whoa, have you been sitting here for two and some-odd days thinking I used Shadow Seekers to cheat?" The red went all the way to her hairline now. "No, Clare, I was hiding from that psychopath! I didn't get a chance to explain..."

He trailed off and closed his eyes to think about where to begin. He tried to turn to face her but flames of pain went up his side again. "Goddammit! Sorry. It really f- ... It really hurts. Clare, that woman has made my life a misery for six months now. I had to move home, I almost lost my job, eventually I got them to let me switch offices... She even attacked my pet rabbit!"

While Clare had been listening intently, her face changed at the last word. Her eyes popped open and she clasped a hand to her mouth. She buried her face in her jumper for a few seconds before she looked back at him sincerely. He realised she'd wanted to laugh. A grin started to take over his mouth and a wicked glint filled his eyes. He'd just heard it back in his head and couldn't resist a chuckle. "I'm serious though, Clare, she's a stalker. She broke into my flat and shaved my pet! I only dated her for about two weeks. It was awful..."

The seriousness of where he was and what had happened was finally sinking in. Unbidden, tears welled up in his eyes. Before he could stop them, great heaving sobs were coming from his gut. The pain in his side fired inside him but he couldn't stop it now it had come. Clare moved onto the bed beside him and pulled him into an embrace. She laid his head on her chest and smoothed his hair. It was intimate but not sexual. He needed comfort and she was giving it, without question. He hardly knew this woman but he could already feel a deep ache in the centre of his chest just thinking about the kindness of her soul.

He'd stopped crying within a minute or so but they sat like that for several more minutes. Eventually Clare pulled him away and looked down at him. She smoothed the hair off his face and said, "I've been so worried. I didn't know if you were going to come round any day soon and I have to go back to work on Saturday."

"Wait, what day is it?"

"Wednesday. No, wait... Thursday." She looked at her watch again. "Yeah, Thursday."

Aaron hesitated. "What time is it, exactly?"

She read straight from her watch this time. "One-thirty-five a.m."

He sat staring at her, silently and gaping-mouthed. "What are you doing here at 1:30 in the morning?"

Immediately Clare looked embarrassed. "Well... You- I mean, I couldn't... If you woke up and there was no one here..." She stopped talking without finishing the thought. They both knew that he understood her, but they also clearly knew that the strangeness of it all was overwhelming.

She's been here continuously since Monday afternoon, Aaron realised. Lacking his phone or any personal details, she knew nobody to contact on his behalf. So rather than leave him alone, to wake up in a horrible condition, she'd sat for two and a half days with a man she'd only spent half an hour with - in person, at least; there had been the online chat all day on Sunday. Despite everything that had been happening with Michelle, this didn't feel "stalker-esque" or weird. It seemed sweet and kind and astonishingly generous. He suddenly remembered her saying she had a few days off work to decorate her flat.

"Did you use your annual leave to sit with me in hospital?"

"Yes."

"Oh m- Wow." He sat in stunned silence for a moment. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." She put her hand on his, then flushed again and stood up. "I suppose I should really let someone know you're awake." She left and as the door closed Aaron saw her glance back into the room before setting off to the nurses' station.

He looked around the room properly for the first time. He was in a single room. The curtains were drawn, so he couldn't work out where he was. He assumed they'd brought him to Westthorn hospital but he actually didn't know the closest hospital to the Woods. He'd arranged to meet Clare out of the city so he wouldn't be spotted by anyone who knew Michelle. She seemed to have eyes everywhere. How had she known where he'd be on Monday?

He'd only told Heidi that he was popping out for an appointment. He had no friends in the new office yet. Come to think of it, he'd lost all his friends at the old office too. Gary hadn't taken kindly to the abuse he'd been sent by Michelle and Brian seemed to think Aaron was being melodramatic about the whole thing. Aaron getting taken off the product launch because of the number of days he'd missed while avoiding Michelle had been the last straw for Brian, who'd been left to do the work of both of them for the final days of the project.

The new office was nice but, as the sales team, they hadn't been involved in the project and didn't seem terribly enamoured with the new product's changed features. He'd tried to enthuse them on the benefits of multi-layered therapeutic programming for them to explain to customers, but they hadn't bothered taking it on board.

Shit! The office... Work! If Clare hadn't been able to contact anyone, no one knew what had happened, no one knew where he'd been since Monday lunchtime. Crap! This wouldn't go down well. Bad enough having to move offices to avoid a stalker, but disappearing because you'd been stabbed didn't exactly scream, "Nothing to worry about here, guys!"

And Mum! God almighty, what would Mum be thinking? When had he last spoken to her... Sunday! And this is Thursday morning. She'll be in bits. He'd need to ask Clare to contact her as soon as possible, despite the time. If she was worried, she'd be up, and if she wasn't worried yet... Should he disturb her? Yes, she'd want to know as soon as he could get in touch. Work could wait, the damage had been done. He'd phone them during office hours and try to explain as much as he could without sounding lunatic.

As his mind was wandering, he heard an extra beep over the others - funny how he'd tuned them out already - and then a buzzing sound came from the IV stand. A wave of colour washed over him and he felt the heat in his side disappearing. It must be some sort of pain relief. Whatever it was it felt lo-o-ovely. He sank back into the bed and closed his eyes.

When Clare came back into the room with the nurse he snapped up, sent a bolt of pain up his side and realised he'd dozed off. The nurse walked straight over to his right side, asked him how he was feeling and started writing down details from the monitors. Clare was hovering at the door and he reached his left hand out for her to come over. His hand felt tingly, which he hadn't expected. He took her hand anyway and said, woozily, "I'm so sorry to ask this, but can you please phone my Mum just now? She's not heard from me since Sunday and she might be worried. I really am sorry, it's a lot to ask when you don't know me..."

The nurse glanced at the two of them when she heard this, then she left the room saying she'd fetch a consultant.

"Of course I'll phone her. I've been desperate to get in touch with someone for you, but I didn't know where to start! And I've no way of getting back to your car - at least, not easily, because mine is still at the Woods."

"Ohhhhh Clare, I didn't even think! You came in the ambulance with me! I'm sorry."

"Stop apologising. You were stabbed! I could have phoned for a taxi if it was a problem, but I didn't want to leave you. Do you want me to phone her now? It's two in the morning."

"Yes, honestly, she'll want to know. I'll give you her name and her number and you can just explain the best you can. I'm so grateful."

"Is there anyone else who needs to know straight away? Is your Dad with her? Do you have siblings?"

"No, my father left when I was a teenager and I'm an only child. Mum's all I've got. I mean - I have friends! God. That sounded pathetic. I only mean that no one else is urgent. Although, maybe in the morning - the proper morning - you could phone my mate Postb- sorry, Tom - to go and check on my pet?"

"Yes of course. What's it called? The pet, not Tom."

It was Aaron's turn to flush now. He ruffled his hair and mumbled, "Mr Snuffles."

"Sorry?"

"Mr Snuffles," he repeated, too firmly. They both laughed.

"Okay, I'll make sure Mr Snuffles is looked after. But at some point we need to talk about that name!"

Clare wrote down his mother's details and left to find somewhere she could use her phone. A few moments later the nurse returned with a tall, soft-featured older man. The man stepped past the nurse and came to Aaron's side. He looked down kindly at him and said quietly, "Pleased to meet you. I'm Jim Monroe, I tended to you when you arrived and I've been part of your care team since then. How do you feel, Mr Flynn?"

"A little woozy, right now, doctor. My side hurts like f- ... A lot."

Mr Monroe chuckled. "That's understandable. The morphine should keep that in check for you, but you'll be quite tender for a while yet. There was some damage to your small intestine and you lost a fair drop of blood, but the tip stopped short of your kidney, so the prognosis isn't too bad, all round. Your girlfriend consented to a blood transfusion on your behalf, Mr Flynn, I hope that was okay. It's always better to have an immediate family member but in an emergency we do what we can."

Aaron took everything in. It sounded like he'd avoided anything serious, but it was quite shocking to hear all at once. Strangely, the least shocking thing had been hearing Clare described as his girlfriend. He hadn't even wanted to correct that.

"Thank you so much, doctor. This whole thing is just awful. I can't believe my life has come to this. Have the police been involved at all?"

The consultant frowned and sucked in air. "Yes... Now don't get excited. Two detectives came by on Monday evening after we'd alerted them. We gave them your name and your girlfriend went through the circumstances. They seemed to know of you already. They simply thanked us for assisting in their enquiries and asked us to phone again when you woke up. Miss Cameron didn't understand, either... She's been wonderful, though."

"Who?"

"Miss Cameron? Your girlfriend."

Aaron felt the heat fill his cheeks instantly. Of course! Clare. He'd known her surname, of course, but it was too much to take in all of this and remember a detail like that. He felt ridiculous.

"Sorry, yes, Clare. Miss Cameron. Clare Cameron." Too much, Aaron. "Sorry, yes, I was working with the police before all of this happened. Clare maybe just didn't connect it all. That's fine." He tripped over the words as he tried to close the subject.

At that moment, Clare came back into the room. The consultant turned to greet her fondly. "Ah! Miss Cameron. I was just telling Mr Flynn about the police visit. And about your wonderful attendance over your boyfriend here these past few days. It's been good to know he'd have a loved one to wake up to. I'll leave you for now. Carol is on the other end of your buzzer if you need anything. Both of you should try to rest. Goodnight."

Clare and Aaron stared at each other as the nurse closed the door. Clearly, neither of them knew what to say and they both felt the tension in the room. Finally Clare broke the silence when she remembered her purpose in leaving. "Your Mum answered straight away. She'd brought the phone to bed with her. She hadn't wanted to harass you during the week but she was getting quite upset that you hadn't texted her. I could hear the worry down the phone. I just said that I was a friend and I'd been with you when someone attacked you. I told her where we were and I gave her my number so she could keep in touch. She's going to drive up tomorrow and I checked with an auxiliary that she can come see you any time."

Aaron found himself gazing at Clare again. The ache in his chest came back and his heart thudded. This would have been alright, except that the beeping from the monitor beside him began to grow louder and faster too. He took a few breaths to calm down then gestured for her to come over. She sat down beside him on the bed and he whispered, "Thank you, Clare. You've been amazing. You're a really special person."

"I don't think I've done anything anyone else wouldn't do, but thank you." She hesitated, as if deciding what to say next. There was a lot to be said but Aaron thought most of it could wait. Clare smiled and spoke at last. "So... How would you rate our first date?"

_____________________________

Aaron and Clare will return in Part Four in a few days' time. Please continue to leave me feedback here or via Facebook, as I'm still learning as I go.

Peace and love.

FG x

Short story, part two

The Shadow Seekers
by Fiona Gibson


Part Two

Six months earlier...

Aaron strolled into the office humming a little tune to himself. It was a bright spring morning, he had no calls today and his date with Michelle last night had gone really well. Really, really well.

They'd seen each other three times now and Aaron was sure they were a good match. He'd been nervous at first. After Jules had left him he'd poured all of his energy into the project launch at work. He hadn't actually noticed that he'd been single for two years until the rugby crew had started calling him "ice balls." They were good guys but they lacked imagination when it came to nicknames. Tom had spent the past five years being called "postbox" after getting his hand stuck in one on a night out.

Putting himself back out there was hard now that the launch was only weeks away. As the deadline approached, he was leaving the office later and later each evening. By the time he'd got home and changed, checked in on his rabbit Mr Snuffles (a stupid last-ditch effort with Jules, he hadn't had the heart to get rid of it or change his name), gone to rugby training twice a week and the game on Saturday... There was hardly time to go visit Mum before the week started all over again.

He'd never tried online dating. The adverts made him cringe and there were so many horror stories of false profiles and meet-ups gone wrong that he doubted anyone was who they claimed to be. Yet again, he didn't have time to go out and meet people. Gary from work had met his wife on Tinder, so it was worth a try. He'd had two dates with women he'd matched with, but neither of them were terribly interesting. Supposedly a proper dating website would use more emotional factors to provide a connection, he'd figured. Michelle had been his first match, and so far, it was going great.

As his computer whirred to life, Aaron sauntered to the little office kitchen to make his first coffee of the day. He could see Brian was at his desk already, too, probably tweaking the website before the beta testing next week. It was a small department but this launch was demanding a lot from them. As the kettle squealed to a boil and he tipped its contents into his mug, Aaron inhaled the aroma and thought again about the date last night.

Michelle had seemed eager to know more about his family and his childhood, she was interested in his hobbies, they'd talked for hours about their shared love of old musicals. This was the second time they'd had dinner rather than just drinks and she'd ordered a decent meal for herself and hadn't been shy about enjoying it. Everything was pointing to a cool, fun, pleasant woman whose company Aaron felt he could enjoy. He was hoping to ask her back to the flat next time, so as he sauntered back to his desk he wondered if he should look out the number for that cleaning lady he'd used a few times.

_____________________________


Three days later Aaron made the same walk into the office, cheerfully whistling a happy tune. Michelle had accepted his invitation for drinks at his place and she'd stayed the night. He'd made breakfast for them both this morning and she'd eaten it wearing his shirt from last night. He'd walked her to the bus stop and headed to the office on foot, happy to enjoy the cool April sun. It had been a good date.

After getting his coffee and checking in with Brian, Aaron came back to his desk and opened his email software. Among the call notices for today's schedule there was a message from Michelle. When did I give her my work's email, he wondered.

Good morning sweetie, it read.

Last night was amaaaaazing!!!!! I'm sooooo happy we've found each other.

Can I see you tonight for a chat?

Luv, M x

Aaron read the email a couple of times then decided it was probably quite sweet. He'd really enjoyed the evening too. An internal message popped onto his screen so he switched away from the email and forgot about it for the rest of the morning. He had conference calls with head office for the next three hours solid and no doubt there would be plenty to do on the back of them.

After lunch he logged back in and checked his emails. Two from Michelle. The first one was titled "Everything okay?" and the second subject was "Where are you?" Aaron opened the former with a little hesitation.

Hi sweetpea. I haven't had a reply from you. Is everything okay? Let me know. Love, M x

A wave of nausea washed over him as he clicked open the second email.

Where are you Aaron? I need to see you tonight and you're ignoring me. Please tell me what time to be there. Love and kisses, your M x

The nausea had turned to lead in Aaron's stomach now. He still couldn't recall giving Michelle an email address for him, far less his work email, but he'd also only left her five hours ago. He started to think back over their dates. Everything had gone really well, they'd enjoyed each other's company and the conversation had flowed naturally. Michelle had ordered rosé wine on the first date but hadn't had too much. She hadn't done any of the clichés that had warned Aaron off girls in the past: twiddling with her hair in a silly manner; ordering salad then eating his chips; cooing over his biceps, which weren't really that special. He'd had enough bad dates to know that these were good ones.

Last night had been perfect: they'd had a late supper, she'd come back to the flat, the cleaning lady had left candles out (remember to tip her next time!) and there had been nothing to show that Michelle was anything other than a really lovely woman. He had thought they could start something serious soon.

But these emails. Was he overthinking them? Perhaps she was just keen. Maybe she really did have something to say to him that needed to be said tonight. Was he being a typical guy and panicking at the start of something serious? He was sure that being on the receiving end of the heartbreak Jules had caused him wouldn't allow him to be a dick.

He was just about to compose a suitable reply when he thought he felt his mobile vibrate across the desk. He was suddenly scared to draw his eyes from the monitor. In his peripheral vision he could see the phone screen flashing. It was definitely ringing. He looked down and saw the words "Michelle - date" at the top of the screen. Fear paralysed him. Before he could reach over and answer it, it stopped. The voicemail must have kicked in. He didn't know what to do next. He had ten minutes until his next conference call with head office and he now appeared to have a very big problem.

Decisively - at least, telling himself that - he jumped from his chair, grabbed his phone and shouted something to Brian about feeling sick and needing fresh air. If he could just persuade her to wait until after he'd finished work, he was sure they'd be able to sort this all out. As soon as he was downstairs he raced across the lobby and pressed Michelle's name on his phone book. By the time he got outside it was ringing. He took a deep breath.

"Oh thank goodness, I was so worried about you, where on earth have you been?" Her voice sounded an octave higher than it had this morning.

"I've been at work since I left you," he said. "Don't you remember I said I had calls all day?"

"Well of course I do, but surely you can take a few minutes out of your day for your girlfriend, can't you?"

Aaron paused. He really didn't want to be that guy. It's only a word, he told himself. She's just keen.

"Of course I'd love to chat with my girlfriend, but I did tell you that work is crazy right now. I'm happy to meet you somewhere tonight if you'd like, but I really can't chat during work. I'm due on a call any minute, in fact."

There was a short silence. Aaron didn't know how, but he knew he'd upset her.

"Meet me somewhere?" He had to hold the phone away from his ear. "You mean I'm not welcome at your flat any more?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. I literally don't have time for this, he thought.

"Sure you are. I just have rugby training tonight so I thought we could meet after I finish up there."

"You're still going to rugby? I thought we were dating!"

Aaron really, really didn't know what to say any more, but he knew he was about to be late for head office calling. "We are," he said. "We just haven't had time to sort our schedules yet. Please just come meet me at the pub tonight and we can talk it all through. Okay?" he pleaded. "I'll email you the address."

There was a long silence at the other end of the phone. "Fine," she said eventually. "But I'm really disappointed, you know." She hung up.

Aaron looked up between the tower blocks at the crisp blue sky. He leaned his head back against the glass front of his building and let his shoulders sag. Where had this come from? What had happened from Sunday to Thursday that it all went so... odd?

He heaved himself off the window and walked back into the office. A few busy hours would take his mind off all of this and hopefully Michelle would be okay tonight. Maybe she was just having a bad day at work too.


_____________________________


He'd skipped out of training early, much to the amusement of the other guys, and made his way to the pub hoping he'd beat her there. He ordered a pint for himself and a rosé wine for Michelle then found a quiet table where he could watch the door but stay out of the way of the bar. He was still certain that it would all be a misunderstanding but a niggle inside told him to sit away from prying eyes and ears.

He took a large drink from his glass and drew a deep breath. He looked up as the pub door opened and Michelle walked in. As she scanned for him he thought she looked tired. Best not to say that, of course, unless he wanted to make things worse. She spotted him, marched over and sat down swiftly. He smiled and said hello then proffered her glass eagerly. "How are you?" he ventured.

"I'm fine," she said, sounding nothing of the sort. "I don't like being messed around, that's all."

"Look, I'm sorry I didn't get back to you today, but work really is very busy just now. We're at the end of a two-year project and the product launch is only weeks away. Honestly, I'm not able to talk while I'm at work, okay?"

"It wasn't just that, of course. I've been struggling all day after being at yours this morning. Didn't you remember me saying I was allergic to animals on our first date? I had no idea you kept vermin, then I woke up this morning and couldn't breathe. That was when I realised you had that rodent in your flat."

Aaron baulked. Mr Snuffles might not be the most masculine pet for him to keep, but he was fond of the little guy. There had been a few nights after Jules left them that they'd sat watching TV on the sofa together. It was silly, but it was comfort and companionship when he needed it. He loved the little brown fluff ball.

He wracked his brain but he couldn't remember Michelle mentioning any allergies during their dates nor did he recall signs of difficulties she might have felt this morning. Nonetheless he thought better of arguing the point.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think. I can move him to the spare room if you come over in future."

"Hmm... We'll see if that's enough. But what about this rugby training? I mean, how are we meant to spend time together if you're out all the time?"

This was all getting to be too much. Aaron took a swig of his pint and pinched the bridge of his nose. A strand of hair fell into his eyes and he pushed it back. He'd only started growing it when he became single because Jules always liked it short. He'd suspected she hadn't liked the fact he had red hair. As he ran his hand through his hair he rubbed his scalp as if he could stimulate his brain to find the right words. It didn't work. He took a deep breath.

"Look, Michelle..." She glared at him frostily. "This isn't working for me. I really enjoyed the dates we've been on, but I hadn't expected this level of commitment quite yet. I would like to take more time getting to know you, but if you're looking for a full-on relationship right now, I don't think I can give you that."

He waited. She hadn't moved while he was speaking. He wasn't actually sure whether she'd blinked. He looked around as if to make sure the rest of the pub were moving. They were. Then she finally moved. She leaned across the table and hissed, a little too loudly, "You're dumping me???"

Aaron sensed a few heads turn, but he tried not to look round. "Well yes, but we really haven't had that many dates yet and I don't think we're both in the same place emotionally. I did say that I hadn't seen anyone seriously since my break-up, I was hoping to take things easy."

"Easy? You called me EASY???" She was shouting now and Aaron was in no doubt that the entire place was gawping at them.

"I didn't say that. You're twisting my words. I just think this isn't going to work. I can't commit the way you want me to."

"I thought you were different!" Oh God. "I honestly thought you weren't a stereotypical 'dude' who just wanted to shag around." Oh God she wasn't getting any quieter. "I slept with you!"

"I know. I'm sorry. If I'd known what would happen I wouldn't have let things get that far. I --" Before he could finish she stood up.

"This isn't over." She spat the words out with a venom he couldn't understand. He really had misjudged the whole thing. "You'll regret this. You took advantage of me!"

Aaron wanted the ground to swallow him. If the pub bench could have absorbed him into it right about now, that would have been great. She was acting like every movie version of a crazy girlfriend he'd ever seen. He didn't know what to do to make this any better, but he decided not to make it worse by saying the wrong thing.

She picked up her wine glass. He fully expected her to fling the drink in his face or throw the glass against the wall, but she just downed the contents and slammed it back on the table. With a final "We'll see!" she whipped round and left the bar. Aaron gaped after her for several seconds, before slowly turning to the other patrons who were all agog. He understood completely.

He ran the fingers of both hands through his hair and supported his head as he stared into his drink. Wow, he thought, I really couldn't have made more of an arse of that. Thankfully he'd chosen a pub he didn't normally go to, but still... a room full of strangers had just watched the worst break-up of his life. Yes, Jules leaving had devastated him, but she disappeared one night without a word. This was different. This was hellish.

He downed the bottom half of his pint, took another deep breath and left the pub.

_____________________________


On Friday Aaron walked into the office early but he was nowhere near as cheerful as he'd been all week. He was hungover, to begin with. He'd gone home last night and sat drinking until after midnight, with Mr Snuffles, defensively. He knew he'd done nothing wrong. He had tried really hard not to be a dick.

He kept his head down all day and by the time he was walking home he'd forgotten how awful he'd felt this morning. He swiped his key fob on the main door and climbed the stairs to his own front door. As he turned the key his eye caught something at the bottom of the door. It was brown and looked like a piece of fabric or lint, perhaps. He squinted and wondered where it had come from. It didn't look like anything he'd worn recently. In fact it didn't look like anything he owned. He shrugged and went inside.

Inside the hallway, he switched on the lamp and saw that there was more brown whats-it scattered all over the floor. A knot began to develop in the pit of his stomach. In the kitchen there were pieces of the stuff was everywhere. By the spotlights he could see it was actually some kind of fluff. The knot grew as a feeling of familiarity sank in. He stepped into the other half of the room. In the corner of the living room the fluff was in little piles all the way up to... Mr Snuffles!

Aaron ran across the room, feeling ridiculous and terrified in the instant, and looked into his precious pet's hutch. He recoiled in shock as he saw that Mr Snuffles was looking up at him, nonchalantly munching on a stalk of hay, completely and utterly bald save for his head and ears. He ran both hands through his hair and brought them back to cover his mouth. The sheer absurdity of it was almost laughable, his leftover gesture of romance shorn except for a fat little head. But more strongly than that, he felt horrified that someone - he knew who, but couldn't face that yet - had somehow entered his home while he was at work and shaved his ex-fiancée's pet rabbit.

What does one do in this situation? Has anyone else ever been in this situation? His heart was racing and his hands were shaking. The whole thing was nonsensical, but he had to phone the police. He'd be laughed off the phone, surely? But a crime had been committed. A weird, harmless crime. He decided eventually to lift Mr Snuffles out of his hutch for a cuddle while he phoned the non-emergency number for the police.

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I hope you're enjoying The Shadow Seekers. That's it for Part Two, but since it's Friday and I'm feeling generous, Part Three is coming up soon!


Peace and love.

FG x

Room 101

Just a short blog today. I thought I'd share one of the little wanders my mind often embarks upon.

In the wake of the creation of "alternative facts" and "fake news" I found myself downloading the ebook of Nineteen Eighty-Four, which I'd never read before, although it's a thing I've always meant to do at some point.

I read the whole book in two days this week and I loved it. It's bleak as f*** and the end is really depressing, but it's brilliant, of course. I really enjoyed the Appendix/essay. Spot the language nerd! While the whole book is more relevant in 2017 than it's ever been since publication in 1949, the Appendix is especially fascinating when considering the language used in American politics at the moment.

I'd also say that the descriptions of Britain having been absorbed politically into the US as part of "Oceania" are fantastically more appropriate since its writing, as the "special relationship" has developed and American habits and phrases have been passed across the Atlantic by osmosis.

Sharing a common language across all of Oceania - the superstate containing Britain, the Americas and Australia and New Zealand - the ruling Party have created "Newspeak" (as opposed to "Oldspeak" or standard English) to be phased in and ultimately used exclusively.

As I say all of this, I'm sure lots of other people, much smarter than me, have spent time analysing the book, pulling it apart and inspecting it over the decades. Nonetheless, it's quite eerie that the solitary state newspaper which writes the Party's "alternative facts" in the book uses the same language that Donald Trump has been using for months now in all of his speeches. Words like "bigly" and "bragadocious" compare directly to Newspeak's "ungood" or "speedful." Banishing reporters or publications he disagrees with from the Briefing Room is like the Thought Police "vanishing" someone for talking ill of Big Brother in his sleep. And it's starting to creep over here too, with the Tories yesterday sacking Lord Heseltine as an advisor after he voted against government policy on Tuesday.

Something that struck me in the third part of the book was the real meaning of Room 101. Growing up in the 90s I took the meaning from the BBC programme of the same name: that Room 101 was where one could consign things which they didn't like, suggesting a vast cavern full of everyone's pet peeves. However, Orwell is quite clear in the use of Room 101 and it's not that at all. It's a small, plain room with a restraining chair and little else. Once in the room, however, a prisoner of the Party is subjected to torture by their worst fear. For the sake of anyone who hasn't read Nineteen Eighty-Four yet (you must, it's awesome) I won't say what the protagonist is subjected to, but I will say that I would probably end up in a room full of spiders.

The current political climate is fraught and uncertain, but with rational discussion and sensitive debate, we can all find our way through democratically. On the other hand, if we're to be subjected to four years of Trump-isms and bully tactics, perhaps I'm already in Room 101 after all...

Until next time.

FG xx

A short story

The Shadow Seekers
by Fiona Gibson


Part One


A cool breeze rustled the treetops against the ashen grey sky. On the bare branches Clare could see the silhouette of a solitary bird. It had the look of an omen, warning her to go home and forget the whole affair. "I'm here now," she told herself, "I've come this far. I have to meet him, at least."

At that moment, a movement behind her caused the bird to take flight, swooping away beyond the trees. She turned to see Aaron striding towards her along the path from the river. She'd been waiting for a while now but hadn't noticed his approach. He must have come over the bridge at the edge of the clearing, she thought. Perhaps he had parked on one of the farm lanes on the other side.

Clare had had the feeling that she shouldn't use the public car park. She had found an old gamekeeper's hut half a mile away and parked behind that. Added to the distance through the trees to find the meeting point, she'd probably walked a good two miles to get here. Although what they were doing wasn't technically wrong, an instinct had told her not to be conspicuous.

As Aaron approached, his features became defined in the harsh winter light. He was tall, taller than her by a few inches, and he looked slim under his winter jacket, though his shoulders were broad. He'd obviously come straight from the office, as he was wearing smart trousers, but he'd changed into walking boots somewhere on the way here. Longish auburn hair framed his face, a sharp widow's peak drew Clare's eye to a strong Roman nose but unruly dark curls protruding below his ears softened the squareness of his jaw. His face coloured as she stepped forward to meet him, his right hand nervously lifting up to tuck an imagined stray hair behind his ear. He put this hand out to Clare when they reached each other. She fumbled awkwardly to remove her glove then shook his outstretched hand.

"It's nice to meet you," he said, more firmly than he had intended, "I mean, to see you face to face at last. I'm glad you came."

"Me too. I mean, it's nice to meet you too." Clare hid her face as she put her glove back on, gently cursing her own nerves. "To be honest, I was just about to leave when you arrived."

"I'm sorry I was late. Someone caught me as I was leaving. I need to be back at two, now, I'm afraid."

"That's okay. Shall we take a walk?" Clare couldn't really have cared less if they walked, stood or sat down, but she needed to give herself time to think.

"Sure," Aaron nodded, "there's a path along the river over here."

They set off walking, taking a few paces to get into a rhythm beside one another. After calming his breath a little, Aaron was the first to speak. "So have you ever met someone like this before?"

"No." Clare paused. It had all been very fast. Sam only signed her up for the site two days ago and Aaron had contacted her yesterday morning. Although they'd spent all day yesterday chatting online, they hadn't even spoken until now and knew virtually nothing about each other. On Saturday morning she'd been sharing her relationship woes with Sam and by Monday afternoon she was meeting a stranger in a wooded area. It was insane! Everything she'd ever been told about women's safety taught her that this was exactly the situation to avoid. "I've always been very cautious about dating. I've always known someone for a long time before starting a relationship. Using a site like... Well like that was all quite new to me... No offence."

Aaron laughed nervously. "It's alright. I've actually never made it this far before either." As Clare looked at him, he continued, "I've had contact with women on the site before, but the only time I arranged to meet someone she didn't show up."

They walked on in silence for a few minutes. Although Clare kept her head down she could feel Aaron beside her looking up at the sky. She got the sense that he was searching for inspiration. Eventually, Aaron broke the ice again. "I guess since you're new to this, you have questions you're keen to ask. Do you want to try one?"

It's true she had lots of questions. They'd talked for hours yesterday about themselves, their likes and dislikes, their childhoods, their families. They'd compared favourite movies and music and they'd even had a few jokes at the expense of each other's tastes. They hadn't talked about dating or relationships, though, and Clare had noticed.

"Yes. Have you used regular dating sites before?"

"Yes."

"Have you always used online dating?"

"No."

"What made you start?"

"I had a few relationships in my early twenties but as I got more serious about my career I didn't have the time or chance to meet people."

Clare took this in quietly, although it wasn't unexpected. She knew the next question was the most important but it was also the hardest to ask. Before she could find the words, Aaron interrupted her thoughts. He spoke calmly, without emphasis or insinuation. "What made you use this site? Why not start with a regular dating app?"

"My friend Sam signed me up. I've just come out of a relationship that ended before it could get going because of... well, overzealous family and friends. I was telling her about the pressure I've been under and that I just need some space if I'm to start seeing anyone else and she suggested this." It was actually easier to ask now. "What about you? Why Shadow Seekers? ... Do you need to keep a low profile or are you hiding?"

Aaron took a deep breath. He'd obviously been waiting for this. They'd been walking for so long now that Clare wasn't sure she could have found her way back alone. She spotted a bench set back in the trees and gestured to him to sit down. He looked across the river for a minute then up to the sky. He raised his right hand to tuck the invisible hair behind his ear then seemed to pause halfway. After another breath he lifted his hand to his forehead and ran his fingers through his thick rusty curls. With a slight gesture he made his resolve to begin whatever he was about to say.

As he turned on the bench to face Clare more directly, his gaze moved over her shoulder then his face fell and his eyes widened. For a moment Clare stared at him in confusion, before turning to look at what had caught his eye. She saw a thin, middle-aged woman coming around the path from the bend beyond the trees, wearing a black tracksuit top and carrying a water bottle. She looked like a health fanatic and didn't seem out of place on a woodland walk. But when Clare turned back to ask Aaron what was wrong, the colour had drained from his face, his eyes were wide as if he were a cartoon and his mouth gaped like a fish frozen in a deli counter. She touched his hand gently and he shook himself from his absorption. As the woman came nearer, he just had time to whisper to Clare, "I'm so sorry," before jumping from the bench, grabbing the woman by the shoulders and screaming at her.

It was Clare's turn to watch open-mouthed and she took a full minute for the conversation being shouted between these two figures in front of her to penetrate her consciousness. She vaguely heard Aaron saying that he wasn't in a relationship with the woman and in fact he wasn't in any relationship. The thing that snapped her to attention was the woman gesticulating towards her and yelling, "Who's she then?"

While Aaron began to respond, the woman reached into a fold of her coat and pulled out something which glinted dark against the grey sky and its reflection in the river. In the moment that Clare registered it as a knife, the woman plunged it into Aaron's stomach, stepped back and hissed, "If you want him, you can deal with him, bitch." The woman turned and marched quickly back the way she came.

Clare dove forward to her knees as Aaron crumpled to the ground. She ran one hand through his hair as the other hand searched for the wound. She suddenly realised that the knife was still lodged in his side. "Are you okay?" she asked, foolishly. Aaron nodded. "Try not to move. It's still there. You might be okay if it hasn't done too much damage. Stay still."

She flung her hand into her coat pocket and pulled out her mobile. Transferring her phone to her left hand and grasping her right glove off in one motion, she dialled 999 and waited to ask for an ambulance. It was then she remembered that she had no idea where they were. After saying that she was with someone who'd been stabbed, she began by naming the B-road she'd taken to the car park and the gamekeeper's hut. As the call operator began to question her, she tried to describe the path they'd taken from the clearing and the bridge Aaron had walked from. The ambulance was on its way but the operator was now managing to narrow down the area if she could just say how far they'd gone along that path. Clare couldn't say how long they'd walked for. She knew they'd arranged to meet at noon but she hadn't looked at the time when Aaron arrived. She could only guess. The operator told her that the crew would do their best to find them as quickly as possible when they arrived, but Clare would need to keep Aaron safe and comfortable.

Over the next several minutes, Clare regularly checked Aaron's pulse, put her hand inside his shirt to feel his heart rate and monitored the blood around the knife to make sure it wasn't spreading. But while the operator talked her through these things and quietly kept her calm while they waited, the main thing Clare did was hold Aaron's hand and smooth his hair as he looked up at her. Whether from dizziness or real feeling, Aaron had been staring with soft eyes at her since the moment she landed on her knees beside him.

When the emergency crew arrived after what felt like an hour but was probably only ten minutes, Clare stood up to let them work, but Aaron didn't take his eyes off her. Only when the paramedic began manipulating his head and neck did he move his gaze to the sky. When they finally moved him on to a stretcher and began to wheel him off, one of the paramedics asked Clare if she'd like to be listed as next of kin and go with him to the hospital. She looked over to see what he'd say but he'd obviously passed out with the movement, so she just nodded and followed after them.

No time later, she was sitting in the back of the ambulance holding Aaron's hand in both of hers, when a voice said quietly, "So what did you think of online dating?"

She looked down. Aaron had woken up and was dopily staring at her. She let out a small laugh despite her surroundings. The paramedic in the back with them looked round for a second, so she lowered her head and whispered, "Not bad. Not sure if I'll do it again. But first, you have some explaining to do."

Aaron nodded and closed his eyes. She thought he'd maybe fallen unconscious again, then she heard, "Yeah. I'm fed up with the shadows."


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Thank you for reading my first piece of fiction. I haven't written fiction since leaving school, so this is a strange experience. Your honest feedback is valued, in everything from the story itself to the style or technique to individual sentences or paragraphs. It doesn't claim to be terribly clever writing, it is only a few hours' work, but I hope you've enjoyed it nonetheless.

For the record, the story is a complete work of fiction. It's not based on anyone or anything real, the characters are total figments of my imagination, the events don't resemble real life and the website doesn't exist. Or at least it doesn't exist to my knowledge!


Thanks, as always, for your support.

Peace and love.

FG xx