My very supportive family and a compulsion Takes flight a Tilly debate.

I have added a second part of the story at the bottom. Skip the first bit to find out what happens next.

My very supportive family make my day worthwhile. Oh Yeah! They know how to fill me with confidence and inspire me.

I was talking to Kev about going in for a competition that had; as part of its prize a mentoring scheme, he thought the mentoring was a good idea but told me to save my money on entrance fees as I was unlikely to win. Giving him the benefit of the doubt I thought he put this down to the fact that it was a big competition and there would be many entrants so it would be difficult for me to win. But that was my own naivety.

            Sitting down later that day he said he had given it some thought and while having a cup of coffee he elaborated on his comment earlier. I hadn’t asked him to and as my self esteem had dug its self a rather large hole into which to bury its self in, I think he should have drunk his coffee in peace; after all there is only so much realism a person can take.

            His thoughts concluded that while he enjoys my take on life as I see it, my short stories are not my thing and I should just write the odd poem and anecdote as a hobby and enjoy it.

            It gave me enough food for thought for a banquette for a thousand hungry guests. I will have to take time in digesting this, as I internally debate whether I should give up on the short story and novel idea. I would ask the other family members what they think but I would hazard a guess their answer would be the same. Thinking about that that really should tell me something shouldn’t it! WAKE UP AND SMELL THE COFFEE TILLY!!!!!!!!

            How so ever the short story should be 300 words but I wrote 480 so he’s right! I’ll let you decide whether it was worthy of writing.

I Watched as my Compulsion Grew wings

I watched my compulsion grow wings and take flight, I tried in vein to catch her but to no avail. I stood incensed; as once more I had been passed over for a promotion and it was given to the loud mouthed, unnatural red haired, tight skirted, bursting boosomed know it all; that knew nothing and the most aggressive office bully that I had ever met in my life. An unnatural compulsion to tell the truth, without a care rose like an out of body experience. It looked so beautiful and felt so liberating. I was transfixed on the spot at the splendour of it all.

            ‘Did you hear what I said?’ Her banshee’s screech hurt my ears. Slowly I brought my eyes down and focused on her thick makeup that clung to her features like a badly made mask.

            ‘No’ I replied dully and turned to go. She grabbed my arm to swing me around so that another onslaught of her abuse could be unleashed on me but my compulsion was having none of it. Without turning and with conviction and an inner strength; I had rarely felt, I asked her to let me go.

            ‘You stay here and listen to what I have to say. Just because you wanted the Managers job but they picked me;’ her face had screwed up into a contorted hag’s; which I must admit suited her personality well. ‘For obvious reasons, might I add!’ she continued. By now the whole office had stopped what they were doing. I looked around and back at the false nailed, boobs on stilts and before I could capture it, it took flight again and all my thoughts and truths whirled through the air zooming with zeal and delight. The crowd that had gathered were taking great enjoyment in my swooping and looping statements. I watched her face crumble and the mask crack in lines but I didn’t stop and as I reached the door, I bowed with exhaustion and exhilaration, as I closed the door on the stunned manager and delighted crowd.

            As the wings of my compulsion carried me home I kept saying to anyone who would listen, did I really do that? Flash backs of the statements I had made, amused me but if they hadn’t been truths they would have filled me with remorse.

            I thought by Thursday I would get a call; after all I was the only one Mr Fleming would talk to and then no one knew where the key to the supplies was kept or how to work the printers when they had a funny turn; which they did every third day or so. So by Thursday someone would have to eat a large piece of humble pie and ring and ask for help. Now I wonder who will be chosen for that deed and I wondered if a salary of a manager was enough!

THE END

P.S If you’re wondering who the boobs on stilts is, its Kev in drag!

I’m dedicating this to Julie who is suffering from man flu. I know Kev’s thoughts on my work will incense her beyond distraction speeding her recovery I hope and giving her some light relief. x

The second part of this story which I had no intention to write was asked for by a very dear friend who laboriously goes through my work when I send it out to agents. Unlike my family she firmly believes I will get published, with her and a few others they keep me going. That and my readers of my blog so many thanks x

            To Tina my name sake bless ya x

When a Compulsion is Liberated

            Liberation couldn’t last long, finances being what they were. Did I really want my old job back anyhow? Contemplating the issues I walked as I often did, in a semi trans-like-state when I heard a friend call. We had met a few times while she was walking her little lad, so friend was probably too strong word for it, acquaintance is a better description of our relationship. Apparently I lifted her spirits and made her laugh, a much needed thing when your child is teething.

            We had walked across the green some way and had turned to go through our favourite part of the village, a wooded walk through. Going parallel with the road I could see a car pull up, I thought I recognised the car but I’m completely hopeless when it comes to cars. Not wanting to appear rude and stare at a stranger I turned to answer a question Jane had just asked. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the screaming banshee stride on her stilts over to me. Acutely embarrassed, knowing from experience that she was going to get verbal again, I turned to apologise to Jane. I want a word with you her venom spat out.

‘We’ll wait’ she nodded to Tom in the buggy.

‘No I don’t think so’ I replied moving to protect Tom but I was too late as Boobs on stilts, nearly stumbling over him to get to me.

            I could see from her fixated eyes that she was out to get my eyes. Lord I thought she needed careful handling but what could I do with dog poo bag full of the stuff and the lead to my pregnant bitch in one hand? Somewhere in my mind I heard the voice of my son when he had taken an army day at school ‘bend the figures back to gain control. Well I didn’t argue as I’d already sustained a scratch high up on my right cheek bone. When I had full control she started to kick me as hard as she could.

            The thing that struck me was how quiet she was, not a murmur. Her eyes were fixed and with every sinew she had was out to get my eyes, to cause as much damage to them as she could. I bent her fingers a little further while I asked Jane to take my dog and poo bag.

‘You’re hurting me’ she wailed.

‘Sorry’ was my reply. I know, I know. It makes me laugh too but manors cost nothing. Well I was bending them hard to gain control and to stop her kicking me, so I relaxed my gip a little.

            So there we stood in a bit of a dilemma really. Quiet, nothing at all being said while I contemplated what to do. She had started to calm down, well she had too I was in full control. Bullies always think they can physically take on more than they truly can.

            I was not prepared to let her go close to toddler and dog. So I frogmarched her backwards fashion to her car. Jane shouted that she was on to the police and she should go and she retorted that how she could do that, nodding at her hands.

‘You think I’m letting go you’ve another think coming.’

‘I can’t get in the car like this’ she nodded again at her hands. She had a point. So I pushed her free and made ready for retaliation and was a relieved that none came. She hurled a few abusive remarks and left.

            I went over to Jane to check she was ok. Jane was reciting the number plate and handed me the phone to the police.

            When I had got home the police were waiting for me to take a statement. They advised me to press charges; even though it wouldn’t make it to court she would be flagged on police records for my safety and that of others.

            When they had come back from arresting her they could give no answers to why the attack happened apart from what I had told them of what had happened in the office she had said nothing. That was what perturbed me and the officer for neither of us thought what I had said was enough to warrant my eyes from being scratched out. The arresting officer said they had a hard time getting her to admit to what happened he said that only when they told her they had witnesses and that I had pictures of the intentional scratches and that if she did not admit to her part in it they would be forced to take things further did she admit to it.

            We laughed and though I was shaken, I was more embarrassed. Well the sight of two middle aged women having a scrap with a poo bag and a pregnant dog on a lead in the middle of a quaint village, well it is funny bordering on surreal.

            I also know that one day that Banshee Ninja and I will meet again. I wonder what will happen then?