Fiction

Examples of my fiction to read

Bandstand in the Rain

Bandstand in the RainBandstand in the Rain came from a set writing prompt on the theme of… rain.


The first time she spoke, I didn’t hear for the din of the rain hitting the bandstand’s metal roof.

“I said, it’s not so good for sitting on your bench today?”

She often passed me, walking her neighbour’s dog in the park. Out in all weathers. Not like me, scowling at the clouds, running for cover when the raindrops ran down the back of my neck.

“Joy.”

What was she on about? I never felt much joy, getting cold and wet. I only came to sit on that bench and remember.

“My name. It’s Joy.”

All the times we spoke, we never exchanged names. She’d stop to talk. I’d pet the dog. We’d talk about daffodils, or trees. She always smiled, whatever the weather.

Joy tipped her head forward expectantly.

“Bob.”

“Pleased to me you, Bob.”

And she smiled again. Joy. I liked that.

“No such thing as bad weather…”

Joy let the sentence hang, waiting for me.

“Just the wrong kind of clothing?”

She gave a little laugh. I think I blushed.

You daft old brush. Just talk to her, like you normally do.

Deep breath…

“No dog today?”

“No. The old lady moved away. Sheltered accommodation. I’ll need another excuse to come to the park.”

The rain dripped from the tall chestnut trees.

“What’s your excuse?”

“I used to come here with someone. A long time ago.”

We sat on the grass in the afternoons. Sometimes with ice cream. We’d wait under the bandstand when it rained, not wanting to hurry home.

How glum did I look? A face like a… wet afternoon in the park? Joy didn’t ask me any more about it.

“I don’t get out much. Not since I lost John.”

“Oh. I’m sorry,” I stuttered. I never know what to say at times like that.

“I’m not. He moved to Scarborough with a dental hygienist.”

“Oh.”

She smiled again at my vague embarrassment.

“John always had nice teeth.”

“So do you.”

Why the hell did I say that?

“I mean, you have a nice smile.”

Stop digging, Bob. Look at the rain. It might stop soon.

“Thank you.”

The patter of the rain made a sound like musical notes on the band stand roof.

“You’re welcome.”

“I’m on the lookout for a rescue.”

“What?”

“A dog. To keep me coming to the park. I don’t suppose I’ll keep coming, otherwise.”

Say something, Robert. Go on. Catch a raindrop.

“That would be a… I mean, I’d miss our…”

It’s no good. Those days are gone.

Joy took a couple of steps until she stood beside me.

“There’s a brass band playing here Saturday afternoon. ‘The Magic of the Movies.’ I thought I might come. If you do?”

She stepped a little closer.

“You could bring an umbrella?”

The rain eased a little.

Yes, I could do with some Joy in my life.


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Isaac

Isaac sci-fi short fictionIsaac. Sci-fi short fiction in the style of Silverberg, Asimov, Vonnegut and others of the Golden Age.


“Isaac, we already had this conversation.” …