Love Can Creep Up On You

 

Boris created in AI Leonardo by Helen 

 

Lights dimmed, Susie sat on the sofa huddled beneath a blanket, watching an old Boris Karloff movie. She clenched the blanket tight as the vampire was just about to strike, when she heard a scuttling noise behind her. She gasped and looked over her shoulder just in time to see a cast shadow of a small shape scurry away with lightening speed. She turned back, pulled the blanket up further around her and tried to ignore whatever it was. 

As she watched the movie, out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of the shape’s shadow moving around the edge of the room. She gingerly lowered her feet to the floor and made a mad dash to the kitchen, where she retrieved a can of Zap It. Back on the sofa she snuggled into the comforting folds of her woollen cover. In her hand she clutched the can of insecticide. The shadow did not appear again, nor the scuttling sound. 

Susie loved old horror films and her workmates thought her, if not weird, then certainly a bit strange. 
“What do they know?” she would mutter to herself.
She didn’t get on well with others and she knew this was partly due to her difficult upbringing. Her mother had been a drunk and never showed her any affection. Her father, well, she didn’t know who he was. So she kept herself to herself, not feeling loved or loving anyone or anything else.

Each night after work she would settle down and watch one of her old films. Tonight it was ‘The Creature From The Black Lagoon.’ Curled up under her blanket, she had only got half an hour into it when the scuttling noise started again.
“What’s that? 
She cocked her head to one side. 
“There it is again.”
She glanced over to the wall behind her and glimpsed the fast moving shape.
“You’re done for!”
Susie’s hand reached behind the pillow where she had left the can of Zap It. She grabbed it and headed for the main light switch. The room was thrown into brightness. Her eyes scanned the wall. Huddled up against the skirting board, she saw it.
“Bloody hell.”
It was the freakiest spider she had ever seen. Its body, round, covered in soft brown fur, was the size of a small child’s hand. Eight striped legs, red, yellow and blue, dangled from it. 
“Eww.”
She raised the can ready to fire a fatal shot when six eyes sparkled at her.
“Eeek!”
The spider raised one leg to cover its eyes. Susie took a step back.
“Aww, don’t do that. You make me feel like a murderer.”
She lowered the can. The spider lowered its leg. They both looked at each other. 
Was it shaking? It’s body seemed to quiver and twitch. “I’ll tell you what,” she said feeling stupid talking to an arachnid. “You stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours.”

Susie returned to the sofa and stuffed the can behind the pillow, just in case. The scuttling continued but it was far enough away for her not to feel too afraid of sharing the room with such an odd creature. After all, she thought, aren’t I a bit odd myself?

 Five days passed since she first saw the spider and each night as she settled down to watch her movie, the scuttling noise could be heard. She didn’t mind it one bit. In fact it was a comfort to know she was not alone. As she reached to the side table for her cup of tea, her hand touched something soft.
“Arggg” She snatched it back and turned to see the spider sitting by her cup. “I thought I told you to keep your distance.”
The spider sat still with its six eyes winking at her in the semi darkness. 
Cautiously she withdrew her cup. “Don’t you come any closer.” She pushed her hand under the pillow to check the can was still there.

For the next six nights the spider reappeared on the table next to her cup. 
Susie, now quite use to it being there, said, “I’d better give you a name if you’re staying. I wonder what would suit you?”
The spider’s eyes twinkled as it looked at her.
“I know. Boris. You’ve seen a few of his films,” she laughed. “Boris it is.” She stretched out a shaky hand and with her finger gave Boris a quick stroke.

A month had passed since Boris first arrived at Susie’s house and she really looked forward to their nightly sessions; him on the table and her on the sofa. He filled a gap in her life and turned out to be the perfect companion. He never argued with her and he wasn’t untidy.

Tonight’s movie was ‘The Blob.’ She knew Boris would turn up soon, but when he didn’t, she became worried. The film finished and still no Boris. She felt strangely empty without the company of her small friend and went to bed feeling the loneliest she had ever been. A tear trickled down her cheek.
“How stupid are you? Crying over a spider.” 
Yet the tears wouldn’t stop.

The next night she looked at the empty space as she placed her cup on the table and sat down with little enthusiasm to watch ‘The Mummy.’ About half way through, she felt a tickle on her hand that rested on the arm of the sofa. Her heart missed a beat.
Is it him? Dare I look?
She turned her head and gazed downwards. Next to her cup sat Boris.
“Oh Boris. Where have you been?”
She reached out and stroked him with one finger. It was then she realised what this tiny creature meant to her and perhaps, that love can come in all shapes and forms. One thing she knew for sure. Love can creep up on you. 

 

The Boy

Image created in Ai Leonardo by Helen 

One day he just appeared on the streets of the busy town. He was a tall skinny boy of  maybe 14 years or perhaps a little older. He had a ragamuffin look about him. His shock of red hair tumbled about his forehead, his eyes, appeared too big for his face and were deep blue. He wore a t-shirt that had seen better days and his jeans were ripped, not by accident, but more by design.  

He fitted in with the general population, no one would have taken any notice of him. He was able moved around the town with little problem and  he’d stand in  a position that gave him an advantage point to watch, and note. He appeared intent on observing anything and everything. He didn’t know if he should interact in any way. He wasn’t sure how he should behave here. 

I first saw him standing on the corner of Bayswater Street and Nolan. I  would not have taken notice of him, except for those eyes. They stood out, over large and sparkling in the late afternoon sunshine, like nothing I had ever seen before. I couldn’t take my eyes off of them and somehow felt drawn towards him. As I got closer I noticed the colour of his skin. It was a normal pinkish yellow but running through the flesh were these tinges of green.  His hands seemed slender and he fingers a little longer than they should be. 
“Hello,” I said.
 He never replied, just stared at me as though I was something unknown to him. 
“I haven’t seen you before.”

  I waited but he seemed more occupied with looking at his own hands, then he took hold of one of mine and studied it. Was he comparing it to his own? I don’t know. Now I was closer to him, the green tinge in his skin seemed much darker. My heart beat a little faster and I was starting to feel unsettled. Who has greenish skin, was he sick? I stepped back making some space between us. Part of me wanted to run and part of me wanted to find out more about him. He sort of looked normal, but there was something, I couldn’t put my finger on it, that wasn’t quiet right.

  He looked away from me. I followed his gaze to across the road where a large scruffy dog was sitting by a lamp-post. He pointed at the creature and tilted his head towards me. I felt sure he was asking me what it was. Why wouldn’t he know what a dog was?  
“Dog.” I said, pointing towards it.
“Dog.” he replied.
“Yes”. 
He now seemed interested in something father away and he started off in its direction. I couldn’t follow, I needed to get on with my errands. I felt a cold shiver go down my back the more I thought about that skin colour and those long fingers. Perhaps, just perhaps, he wasn’t from here. No that’s silly. “That’s pure fantasy,” I said out loud, as though to reassure myself. 

Later in the day I saw him again, this time sitting on the edge of the town’s memorial fountain. He was just staring out, it looked like he was observing the people as they passed by. Should I approach him again? The feeling of being drawn towards him was very strong, too hard to resist, even though  it made my flesh crawl. I couldn’t help myself. Just before I reached him a man dressed in a smart suit rushed up to him. I stopped in my tracks. This time it was me observing.
“Thank God,” he said as he took the boy by the arm. “You shouldn’t be out here.”
The boy stood and faced him. “Why not am I.” 
“You’re not ready for this, come I’ll take you back.”
“Watching I have been.” The boy tilted his head.
“Ah, I see.” said the man. “Time to come back now.”
“I not the same.” He held out his hand with the long fingers and the greenish tinge to his skin.
“You are new,” the man said in a soft voice.
“I am?”
“Yes, you are.” He smiled at the boy.
“How new?”
“Let me see.” He looked at his watch and appeared to be calculating something. His lips moved but no sound came out.  Then he said. “Very.”
“Why skin different.”
“Oh the green tinge, don’t worry about that. We’ll fix it with the next experiment. Come along now.”
He led the boy off to a black Range Rover. I watched them disappear in the direction of the large Laboratory Building that was situated just outside of the town.

I had stood close enough to hear what was being said. The man seemed anxious and more interested in getting the boy back to the Laboratory to notice me standing nearby. Was  the boy an experiment? What were they doing out there? I knew I hadn’t had a good feeling about any of this, at least he wasn’t an alien, which was a relief. But this wasn’t good news either. I wonder who I should tell and more to the point, would they believe me?


©Helen A. Howell 2026

In Praise of Cheese

 

created in GPT by Helen 

 In Praise of Cheese

How I like a lump of cheese,
upon me slice of bread.
When I munch upon this morsel,
it seems to clear me head.
~

Now I like a plough-man's  lunch,
with pickles and chutney too.
But I've heard some health fanatics,
say it isn't good for you.
~

Still I can't resist a bit of cheddar,
all strong and sharp in me gob.
I don't care how its presented,
I'm really not a snob.
~

I do like a lump of cheese,
and I know that when I'm dead.
 Words upon me gravestone ‘ll say,
'She ate it to clear her head.'

©2012 Helen A. Howell

Photo Finish - A Ghost Story

 

Created in Ai by Helen

“Who is she?” Filomena, or Filly as she liked to call herself, stared at the photograph.
“Ah, who  is she? That is indeed the question.” The old man looked over the top of his half moon glasses at the young woman.
“You don’t know?” Filly looked at him. “It must be old. Isn’t that a steam train she’s standing beside?” She stared at the image. The woman, dressed in a long skirt with overlaying jacket, belt, kid gloves and a hat tilted to one side, adorned with a flourish of feathers, stood on a platform with the train beside her. Her eyes stared out at Filly. There was something about them, she could feel it in her bones. A chill ran through her and she shivered. The old man’s voice snatched her away from her thoughts.
“It is,” he said. “The date is in the corner, look.”
“Oh, October 31st 1914.”
“Do you want to buy it?”
Filly put it down. “I’ll just browse some more thanks.”
“You do that.” He smiled and returned to the counter.
 Filly had noticed the shop when she walked down a side turning, as a short cut to the town.  At first she had hurried by it, but something made her double back and peep in the window. Before she knew it, her hand was on the door and the bell above jangled as she entered.
She walked in-between the tables that were scattered with objects one on top of the other. Now and again she stopped to pick up something and examine it, but her thoughts were on the photograph. She could feel the woman’s eyes in the image following her and her heart raced. I should leave, she thought. She took a deep breath and headed towards the door, but as she reached the table where the picture stood she came to a halt. Her hand, as though it had a life of its own, reached out for it and she was once more gazing into the eyes of the woman.
“You’ve decided to take it?” The old man’s voice broke the silence.
“Sorry?”
“The photograph. You’ll take it?”
She found herself nodding, even though she wanted to scream no. 
“Come, I'll wrap it for you.” He waved her to him. She watched as he laid it down on the layers of paper. “Sometimes these things are just waiting for the right person to come along.” His eyes glittered as he handed it back to her.
* * *
Why did I buy this? 
Her fingers clasped the frame as she hurried back home. She wanted to drop it in the nearest waste bin, but when she tried to, she just couldn’t let go. At home she didn’t even unwrap it, she just shoved it into the back of the drawer of her writing desk. Several days passed and she finally forgot about it.
At 2am on 31st October, she woke to the sound of the rhythmic hissing of a stream train slowing down, the rumble of the wheels growing softer and softer.  She sat bolt upright, eyes blinking as they adjusted to the dark. The atmosphere felt icy and she pulled the covers up around her shoulders. Her breath, a smoky cloud, billowed out and hung in the air.
Is this a dream? If it is, it’s bloody real. 
She shivered as the temperature dropped another degree. Her breath swirled in front of her and she reached out to touch it but as she did, the shrill of a whistle filled her ears followed by the clackety clack of wheels on a track. Filly buried herself beneath the covers and listened until the sounds faded away.
 Eventually she fell asleep until her alarm woke her at 9am. “That was a weird dream last night.”  She pulled on her dressing gown and left her room to head to the kitchen. As she passed through the lounge she saw the photograph standing on top of her desk.
“What the? I don’t remember taking that out.” 
She picked it up. The woman in the picture stared at her. Her eyes held a sadness, something Filly hadn’t seen the first time she had looked at it.
 “Who are you?” she whispered. 
She felt the merest touch on her cheek and she swung around. But no one was there. She placed the frame back on the desk and went and made  some coffee.
She tried to distract herself by doing some retail therapy,  but all through the day she thought about the photograph and the fear it conjured within her. 
Why am I afraid of it? 
She had no idea. One thing she felt sure of, was that the woman had a story and maybe she would be able to find out about her. She decided tomorrow she would do some research. Having made her mind up to resolve this mystery, she felt more settled.
The evening passed quickly, a few of the neighbourhood children rang her bell and chimed trick or treat. She smiled at their costumes and handed out sweets to each of them.Then she watched an old movie and fell asleep the minute her head hit the pillow on her bed.
The hoot of the whistle and the clackety clack of the wheels against the metal woke her with a start. Her heart beat so fast she thought it would explode. The covers of her bed fluttered and the temperature plummeted. Her breath came in short bursts and hung like a thick fog before her. The screech of breaks and the hiss of steam filled her bedroom as the front of the train appeared through her wall. 
“Oh my god!” 
Filly watched as the train drew to a halt. The door from one carriage opened and the woman stepped down. She reached out a hand towards her. Her face gave away nothing but her eyes, her eyes said it all. They were filled with a loneliness.
Filly, shaking, got up, grabbed her dressing gown and pulled it on as she approached the woman. She reached for her hand, and just for a brief second she felt the coldness of her flesh before her own hand passed straight through that of the woman. The woman turned and climbed aboard. She glanced over her shoulder and Filly knew that she would follow.
* * *
One Year Later....
The bell jangled as Sandy stepped inside. A shaft of light shone through the window and dust motes floated like a thousand pieces of glitter thrown carelessly  into the air. She wandered around the dusty room laden with objects, until one caught her eye. She picked up a frame containing a photograph of two women with a steam train standing behind them. The older one was smiling, the younger looked lost.
"I wonder who they are?" 
"Ah, who are they? That is indeed the question." The old man looked over the top of his half moon glasses at the young woman and smiled. "Do you want to buy it?"

©Helen A. Howell

Stories Inspired by an Image. The Tight-Rope Spectacular.

 

Image created in Ai Bing by Helen 

This is a story about one little mouses dream, and I will tell you it as it was told to me by my grandmother and her grandmother before her. Mice love to keep stories alive. So here is the one about Nobby.

 

Nobby Mouse had always dreampt of being a tight-rope walker ever since his first trip to the mouse circus. He kept this dream alive in his head and one day when he was not a baby any more he said to his mother.

"Mother, I want to join the Circus."

His mother, being a sensible mouse, replied, "Nobby, don't be ridiculous, you need to find yourself a job that will support you and any family in the future you might have."

Nobby did eventually find a job in the cheese distribution factory, but he never let his dream die. In his spare moments he would practice with whatever he could find. However the best tight-rope he could find was his mother's washing line. So, when she was not using it, he crept into the garden and stole away with it.

"Nobby, have you seen my washing line? It seems to have disappeared."

"No, mother. Perhaps the Badgers stole it."

"Why would they want my washing line," she said shaking her head.

"Perhaps they didn't have one of their own, you know to hang their smalls out to dry."

"This is all very upsetting, now I will have to get another." Mrs. Mouse busied herself with her home duties, all the time muttering to herself about the line. Nobby pretended not to hear.

 

Now whenever Nobby had a chance, he would sneak away into the woods to the trees he had tied the washing line to and practiced his walking upon it. As time went by he became more proficient at it, enough to have the confidence to advertise his debut event. He designed a poster on which the words were written,(in very scrawly mouse writing,)

At two in the afternoon tomorrow, (his shift at the Cheese centre finished at one,) Nobby the Wonder, Will perform for your delight the daring act of Tight-Rope Walking. At the Clearing in the Wood. Be There or Be Square!

He fastened these notices to the trees through the wood.

 

The Time arrived and Nobby waited at the clearing. Slowly his audience started to appear. They sat beneath the washing line tight-rope and gazed upwards expectantly.

Nobby opened the little umbrella he held in his hand and climbed up onto the tight-rope. Not a sound could be heard as the audience held its breath while Nobby took his first step along the rope. Everything was going smoothly until he reached the middle, then he placed his foot at the wrong angle and for a long moment wobbled back and forth. The crowd let out a gasp in unison and one or two even covered their eyes. When they uncovered them again, Nobby had regained his balance and finished the walk to the end of the rope, where upon he jumped down and took a bow. 

 

The audience clapped and cheered, as he bowed again. When he came out of his bow and looked over to the side, he saw his mother standing there with her hands on her hips.

"So that's where my washing line got to. Come here, I'll give you tight-rope walking." Her cheeks were puffed up and her face red. The audience gasped again as they look back and forth from Nobby to his mother.

"Not likely, Mum," shouted Nobby, "I'm off to join the Circus."

He dashed off and all that could be seen was a cloud of dust in his wake.

 

I wonder if he is now performing in a silver suit on a high wire to the appreciation of the crowds. I guess we'll never know.  

 

 

 

 

Me Parrot

 

Image created in Leonardo Ai by Helen

 Me parrot is a pretty bird

he chats to me all day.

But suddenly on Wednesday

he upped and flew away.

 

I searched high and low,

I even called his name.

I’m going to miss that bird,

it really is a shame.

 

The house is now empty

without his happy chat.

You know he’s even missed

by Sooty the black cat.

 

But imagine me surprise,

when a postcard I receive.

Me Parrot’s in Ibiza

well, would you believe!

 

He’s off south for Winter

and having a bit of a fling.

He’s says not to worry,

he’ll be back next Spring.

 

©2014 Helen A. Howell

Stories Inspire by an Image. The Flying Doctor

 

Dr. Whiskers was the area's flying doctor, without him and his trusty dragonfly, Buzz, those who lived on the outskirts of the woodland would get no medical treatment, if it was not for his service.
"Ok Buzz, up and way," Dr. Whiskers commanded once he was settled onto the dragonfly. He carried his medical supplies in a bag that was slung across his back. "Mrs Mousy, is about to have her babies and needs some help."
Buzz stretched out his wings and got ready for take off. Dr. Whiskers had to hold on tight as the Dragonfly headed upwards into the early morning sky. The sun was just waking up and smiled at them as they passed. The birds all twittered their greetings at the Dr. and Buzz.
When they arrived at Holly Berry House, the Dr. dismounted and hurried towards the little door that was hidden within the bark of a tree. He turned towards Buzz, "don't you go wandering too far you hear. Come when I call." He turned back towards the door and pulled the rope that was attached to a tiny bell. He didn't see Buzz stick out his tongue, but he certainly heard the raspberry noise he made. He tutted and muttered to himself, I'll need to have a word with that creature. The door opened and the Dr. disappeared inside.
Some time later he emerged from the house, nibbling a lovely piece of Wensleydale Cheese, it was his favourite. Mrs. Mousey knew this and kept some especially in case the Dr. Visited.
"Buzz," he yelled. But the creature didn't appear. "Where are you Buzz? It's time to take me back". He continued nibbling his cheese while he waited, becoming more impatient with every minute that passed. "BUZZ!" His voice boomed out through the air and it was not long before he heard the flap of the Dragonfly's wings as he came into land, almost knocking the Dr. over and making him drop his cheese.
"Be careful," he stared at Buzz and thought he saw a smirk appear on his face. But it was gone almost as quick as it had appeared. He picked up what was left of his cheese and slipped it into his pocket. Climbing onto the back of the Dragonfly, he said,"we got here just in time, delivered 5 bouncing baby mice. Mother and babies doing well. Time to go home now and put my feet up."
Buzz took to the air and even though he knew he was cheeky to the Dr. he wouldn't rather be with anyone else, that is except a nice lady dragonfly, but that's another story.....

© Helen A. Howell