Writing for Fun
November 2015
It Takes Two - Joan Bond
I can't do it, Gloria muttered as she tried to think of an idea for the latest U3A story at her writing group!
Well ok, I'll just have another little drinky – two should help the juices flow a bit.
Two hours later she still sat, staring at the screen with an empty mind and fingers which refused to move – the arthritis was worse today, it was chucking it down with rain outside, always a bad sign, brought on the pain even more. Two little pills taken before she started on the lovely claret which Don had left when he delivered the gorgeous red roses yesterday had just begun to anaesthetise not only her fingers but her brain also.
Oh, I'll just do it tomorrow, she decided, and shut down the computer.
However, lounging on the sofa, staring at the TV instead, her mind began to wander, not unusual but with strange pictures this time – not often she visualised her thoughts.
She was staring down the barrel of a gun, knowing she was about to die! Where on earth did that little scenario jump from? She'd not even watched the news lately as it was always so depressing, but gradually a story began to form and, switching off the TV, she resumed her position in front of the computer. 'It's so slow, I must get a faster one or some more RAM,' (like Don keeps saying).
Fingers began rattling away, words spilling from somewhere – telling her life, memories of the gun pointing down the stairs daring her to ascend, he would kill her if she came near him – the shock – he didn't shoot her as she slowly climbed those treads but dropped the weapon and sat sobbing on the top landing.
It was a lovely old country inn and the two staircases had caused many a headache with the children racing around screaming over the years, but on this occasion they'd been a Godsend.
Her friend had managed to enter by the servant's staircase and he grabbed the shotgun as Gloria held her husband to her, now totally hysterical as he saw a policeman enter the pub door.
The words continued to flow from her fingers, how soon after this incident they had divorced and she'd brought up their children alone, the ensuing struggles and new relationship failures, the jobs – no wonder her hands hurt now and she felt so tired.
After several hours of relentless typing she stopped, picked up the wine and took two vases of the roses into the lounge – for the two loves of her life – who knew it would take two?