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Michael Swinner: a short story


rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrqwef43

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Well if we're publicising short stories, here's mine. Be nice:


Sitting across from him, I smile as he tries to cheer me up. For no reason (which is always the reason), I?ve had a terrible night and a not much better morning. I can?t remember finding anything harder than getting divorced. It?s an all pervading sadness that makes me feel like someone has died, and in fact I?ve read many an expert who will tell you that, whether you chose this path or it?s imposed on you, you do have to grieve. You grieve for a lost marriage, for a separation from a once good friend, for the assumptions you?d made and the plans you?d drawn up; for the category you now find yourself in, for the indignity of failure and for the horrible pain inflicted on so many people, young and old. ?It?s a path of almost biblical stoniness? warns one of my cyber friends. He?s not wrong.



I spent last night and quite a bit of this morning in tears. We?ve taken the dog for a walk on the Rye, and now we?re sitting down for coffee. Fireman says: ?Did I ever tell you about the time I got lost in a bath?? We?ve only recently met. I?m pretty sure I?d remember that story. I smile and raise my eyebrows.



?I went to a house fire? he says. ?There was a lot of very thick smoke, and we were told by neighbours that a family was inside. Two of us went in to find them. I went straight up the stairs, but the smoke was so thick I literally couldn?t see my hand in front of my face. I felt my way along the wall, found a door, and went into a room I assumed was the bedroom. Just inside I felt something hit the middle of my legs. I assumed it was a stairgate, so I stepped over it. I kept feeling my way, but almost immediately hit a solid wall. I had no idea where I was, the visibility was atrocious and I just couldn?t get my bearings. I flailed about, in thick grey soup, grasping at solid walls. Eventually I managed to step backwards over the stairgate and back into the corridor. We searched all the rooms, but no one was found; turns out the family weren?t there after all. When the fire was out I wanted to work out where I had been so I retraced my steps. It became clear that it wasn?t a stairgate, it was the side of the bath. My hand and footprints were clearly visible, all around the inside of the bath and along the wall, where I had aimlessly stumbled about looking for bodies. I quite literally got lost in the bath!? He grins. I know he?ll have taken some stick from the boys for that one, and his capacity for slapstick and for laughing at himself is very endearing ? and it does cheer me up.



Later I pick my son up from nursery. Whatever else is going on in my life, I still have two children to care for and I?m forever grateful that they make me get up and get on with it every day. They are sometimes the only reason I do.



Text to Fireman: I?m sorry for all the tears. I?m trying hard to do this right, I really am. But today is not easy. It feels like I?m lost in a bath.



Fireman: If you can retrace your steps you might find where you got lost. Alternatively, grab my hand.

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Wow - well thank you very much! It is the beginning, in fact. I've been writing a blog for three months, though I'm not sure it's really a blog, it is more of a diary really. Or possibly a book eventually, I don't really know. It's in blog form because it was easy to do and to see if people liked and to see if I could keep it up. I'm enjoying it, so it's always nice to hear that someone else likes it.
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