Tag Archives: death

Sally-Anne Wilkinson’s New Short Story – ‘A Forgotten Colour’

Another light-hearted romp from the Wilkinson imagination! Hope you enjoy, and please, tell me if you do. And if you don’t, please tell me why…! I only get better if I know how to improve…

A FORGOTTEN COLOUR

paint tins banner

by

Sally-Anne Wilkinson

*

Judith draws back the curtains, securing them with tie-backs; gently fingering the black beaded ends.  David chose them.  She glances around the room.  It could do with a polish, and a hoover.  Instead, she settles for smoothing the duvet with the palm of her hand.  Aubergine.  David’s favourite.

It’s purple, Mum, he said, snorting. 

 

That’s not what they call it on those design shows.

 

Well, exactly.

The conversation she remembers verbatim, but it’s a while since she’s seen him, and lately, she finds it hard to recall his features, such as the line of his nose, and the natural hue of his hair.

She likes to keep his room tidy. That way, it feels like he’ll turn up any minute, though the bedcovers are rumpled from when Frank stops in here.  Why can’t he clean up after himself?  It…

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Sally-Anne Wilkinson’s New Short Story – Amazing Grace

AMAZING GRACE

Amazing-Grace - steven michael

by

Sally-Anne Wilkinson

Photo by Steven Michael

Seth sat on the bench trying to think of the right words.  In actual fact, there were no words for what he had to say; for what he was about to do.  He looked at the paper again, which he’d stared at for the last thirty minutes.  Dear Grace.  It was as far as he got.

His hand was unsteady, and the words uneven, and though his fingers were unused to writing, it was not this that made the pencil quiver.  Outside, the wind cried mournfully, and frigid air crept into his thin clothing, but it was not the cold that made his body shake.

He only hoped she could forgive him.   His hand finally allowed him to scribe.

It was not a decision easily made.

He sat at this bench when he first saw her, not yet seven years old. …

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Sally-Anne Wilkinson’s New Short Story – Colin

My new story on the Storgy website.

COLIN

Shopping trolley in supermarket

by

Sally-Anne Wilkinson

The front door clicks gently, and as I step into the cool stillness, it reminds me of how the day used to start when I was a boy – with the electric whirr and clinking bottles of the milk-float.  The sound was friendly, like the milkman himself.  He’d come around, every Friday night and stand in our doorway, asking about Gran’s health, and about Eileen who’d moved to Australia three years before.   Sometimes he’d tell jokes, or pull a sweet out from behind my ear, while Mum counted coins from her purse.  His barrel-chested bonhomie filtered through to everyone he met.  Many mornings, you’d collect your pint from the doorstep, to be greeted with a cheery hello from a neighbour or a passerby.  You don’t get that now.

These days, people choose to wander supermarket aisles like zombies instead, barely able to glance up from their…

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Sally-Anne Wilkinsons’ New Short Story – Bring Me My Shotgun

Here’s my latest story on the Storgy website. The readers chosen title this time was Bring Me My Shotgun.

BRING ME MY SHOTGUN

alleyway

This was the best Christmas present Kevin ever received.

Even better than the Superman costume when he was ten.  Though that outfit didn’t survive long.  Not once Shaun Peterson got his hands on it.

Avoiding Shaun at school was a skill; one Kevin thought he’d perfected, until that Friday.  It was dress-as-you-like day – though Kevin was the only one to turn up in fancy dress.  All the others kids simply wore their favourite clothes, having long outgrown the concept of imaginary play.  At least in public.

Intrigued by an eruption of noise, a passerby stumbled upon a chanting mob of children in a back street.

‘Hey,’ he yelled.

Spotting an adult in their midst, they scattered – leaving behind a tiny figure, spread-eagled on tarmac in skin-tight red and blue.

‘Oh my God, Kevin,’ said his mother, when he hobbled into the house.

She surveyed…

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STUCK IN TRAFFIC

Here’s my new short story on the Storgy website:

Stuck in apparent gridlock, two car-sharing colleagues are late for work.  It seems that Rick’s female passenger will never shut up. 

Surely, the start of the day can’t get any worse than this?

I hope you enjoy.  It’s a five minute read, so just the right amount of time for sitting down, putting your feet up, and having a coffee.  Comments and feedback are very welcome.  Thanks.

Sally-Anne Wilksinson's New Short Story - STUCK IN TRAFFIC

Please click on the link to read – STUCK IN TRAFFIC.

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The Last Two People Left on the Night Bus

night bus

night bus (Photo credit: penguinpanini)

My latest story on Storgy.

Bill hates the night shift.  You never know what’s going to happen.

Hope you enjoy.

The Last Two People Left on the Night Bus – SALLY-ANNE WILKINSON.

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