There's nothing like a book at bedtime... This was part of the thinking behind the Dormeasan Storywriting Competition which was launched six months ago with Your Healthy Living. So many people find it difficult to get a satisfying night's sleep, and yet heaps of us have a rushed and hectic schedule that barely allows time for tooth-cleaning, let alone a relaxing before-bed routine to help us to switch off. So bring back the books! The people at A.Vogel decided that as well as providing Dormeasan herbal drops for sleep disturbances, they would
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help out by providing an incentive for crafting some bedtime stories. Not that some of the entries would encourage sleep! The imagination powering some of you storywriters out there is quite something... Read some of the stories available on www.avogel.co.uk/story to see for yourself. While the shortlist is being decided, here’s another story of the month for you to enjoy – just a taster here and in full online at www.avogel.co.uk/story or www.yourhealthyliving.co.uk
| your healthy living
One of the judges, Your Healthy Living Editor Tracy McLoughlin, says she’s been delighted by the diversity of ideas and styles of your stories, and a result of reading them all has become a firm fan of the short story genre.
this month’s featured story
It was almost eight thirty and the evening sun had only just begun to cast a filtered buttery glow over the dry, cracked ground in the park. The midsummer celebration was still in full flow; dozens of children running and screaming in bare feet while their parents sat on plaid blankets drinking beer. I sat with my daughters, near the bandstand, the three of us nodding along to the music in a drowsy way.... “Have you seen your brother recently?” I asked, looking around with my hand over my eyes to avoid the blinding light from the low sun. “He was playing football last time I saw him. Over there,” Lucy, middle child, pointed towards a flaking white goal post at the far end of the field. I squinted hard and made out a pale little figure sprinting towards the goal that I thought was probably Christopher. He was moving swiftly with the ball at his feet, and then all of a sudden stopped in his tracks, letting the ball roll miles wide of the goal. I frowned, then realised with a jolt in my gut why he had stopped running. Christopher was now running even faster in the opposite direction, splaying his arms madly as he sprang into his father’s arms. “Dad!” The two girls had spotted this too, and hurtled towards the football pitch, dodging the minefield of picnicking families. I sat glued in position, chewing the edge of a paper cup. A shadow cast over me and I turned to see a looming figure with my three children clinging on like monkeys. “Anna,” said a familiar voice. “Ben,” I replied curtly. The three children hovered around him, their milky blonde hair, bleached by a good summer, now matched his perfectly. They chattered excitedly about the hat parade and the bouncy castle and the BBQ food. ... I noticed a chill in the breeze for the first time and the skin prickled on my arms. The sun was starting to set now, and I saw a few dark clouds emerging over a line of tall oak trees. The kids ran to get a round of ice creams with a handful of change Ben had given them, and we were left alone for the first time. “Anna, I need to ask you about something,” Ben’s tone switched
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to business, which meant we were about to discuss something serious. “Go on,” I said. “I spoke to my parents today, and they want to take all three of the kids away for a few days at the beginning of the Christmas break, to see my brother and his family in Germany,” he spoke clearly with no pauses, like he’d rehearsed in the car on the way. I bit my lip. The reality that this was no longer my family to visit did not sit well in my stomach. It felt like I’d eaten glass, as I imagined all of them sitting around the dinner table catching up without me. “My parents… they booked it before I had a chance to…” he sounded apologetic but did not say the words. “It’s already been booked without even asking me? Well, they can’t go. Your parents will just have to try and get their money back.” .... A screech and bang to our left made us both look up. A small, green scattering of sparks appeared above the bandstand. It wasn’t fully dark but the sky was the colour of bruises, and the fireworks were visible enough. I glanced over to Chloe, Lucy and Christopher, who were kneeling up on the blanket, huddled together, pointing upwards. A quick succession of screaming rockets lit up the sky in pink and blue and illuminated their grinning faces. “What do you want?” I asked Ben. “I want my family back.” “For God sake-” ... A screaming noise at ground level made us both jump. We hadn’t noticed a line of wooden stakes with spinners and fountains that had been placed in front of the bandstand... “Just take them to Germany,” I said, suddenly sick of the whole conversation. “This isn’t just about Germany-” A Catherine wheel started screeching and spinning at the far end of the row of stakes, nearest to the children. Bright peach sparks hit the ground like heavy rain. Ben reached out and grabbed my elbow. I stared at his fingers gripping my slightly sunburnt arm, and noticed he was still wearing his wedding ring... Now read on by visiting www.avogel.co.uk/story or www.yourhealthyliving.co.uk
September November 2011