Dream Catcher . . . Story Weaver

Category: Contemporary Page 1 of 2

The Sleeping Gypsy

Hattie took a deep breath. It got no easier, but she owed it to Tom. He had made plans for her after his death and she had to get out and see them through. It had been the only thing that kept him going through the failed treatments, the tears and disbelief, and finally the acceptance that there were no second chances.

Bathtime, Bubbles and Back Tickles

As a baby sitting on my mother’s knee, my big brother splashes loudly in the back and flicks water at me. A jealous big brother who gets the sharp end of our mothers’ tongue. She turns her attention back to me, a fuzzy face smiling, whispering, soothing and safe. I am lying on my tummy and the sweet cloying smell of Johnson’s baby powder fills the air, the tiny dust particles tickle at my nose, inviting a sneeze. I am cocooned, warm and gurgle with an innocent happiness. My mother gently traces her fingers across my back, following a swirling, twirling path, her touch as light as a butterfly kiss. My eyes grow droopy, yet I battle to keep them wide open, not wanting the tickles, and yet it is that which puts me to sleep within seconds. 

As a mother I stroke my baby son’s back, as soft as silk, tracing those same swirling, twirling paths. His head is a cap of thick black as night hair which will lighten to a dirty blonde as he gets older. Talcum-dust motes float between us and I hear the gentle snores of my son’s slumbers and the moment I stop the tickles; he objects softly with a moan.  

As a grandmother, I am introduced to my granddaughter, seconds old, pressed against the warmth of her father’s chest. The same cap of black-as-night hair which will turn golden and grow to waist length. I smile as he traces his fingers across her tiny back, cradling her tiny form. She snuggles deeper into his neck, as if she has always known him.  

Sandcastle Dreams

Image by skeeze from Pixabay

Pippa chewed noisily on a piece of gum as she tried to remember Chico

Life in A Suitcase

Image by Irina L from Pixabay

Alice stared at the two red suitcases travelling around the carousel. She shifted slightly, not wanting to

Ode to a Child

I treasured the first picture of you as a mere blurry, half-baked blob, weeks before you arrived searching for,

Home Is Where You Park It

Victor wasn’t sad that his mother had died. A good innings, she’d said it herself. His eyelids drooped, bored by the monotonous tone of the solicitor’s voice. He didn’t need to hear that his mother left

Pleading With The Angels

Image by drippycat from Pixabay

I’ve been dreading this day since you left. Visiting the memorial seemed an honourable journey to make. When life was whole instead of being torn

Lost At Sea

Arthur gripped Nanny’s hand as the salty spray formed a crust around his nose. He peered through the railings into the deep and shivered. His baby sister, Alice,

Dear Diary

Image by Mabel Amber from Pixabay

8th March 2000 (Age 9)

It’s my 9th birthday today and Nanny gave me this diary, I was hoping for a pair of roller skates but

A Love Sacrificed

“Leave. Now. Before we wake up in the morning and regret what we’ve done.”

Susan’s words bounced around her head,

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