Creative writing - Evaluation

Evaluation of Creative Writing workshop                                                Lisa Whitaker

This was very much a step into the unknown, as I have not written much, other than reports and exams, since leaving school.  I have always loved reading and this love has been reawakened sharing books with my children.  My eleven-year-old son is a voracious reader and this has benefitted his education.  The children’s writers I enjoy include Michael Morpurgo, Stephanie Meyers and Roald Dahl.  In fact, Oli and I often share books and discuss them after.  So whilst the ‘writing’ is scary and I have never been one to read literary classics, I do appreciate a good read.

I found the pace of the first two days with Garry quite relentless and tiring however on reflection I can see the benefits of this approach.  There was no time to procrastinate.  Something I did a lot of (as well as lots of Graphic Design work) in between sessions.

In terms of the synergy between the workshop and Graphic Design I believe:

·         It will help with storyboarding for animation and Moving image

·         More imaginative use of descriptive words and phrases

·         Character and theme development – the iceberg – making things believable

·         Making the familiar strange and the strange familiar

·         Using writing and poems in research for inspiration

·         Apply to Contextual studies

The biggest stumbling block after the two days was getting started.  Writing the notes up was a big wall between me and the story.  The lifeline was Garry had recommended to write about something that made us passionate or angry.  I had always wondered how my Gran had really felt who had Alzheimer’s towards the end of her life.  I had a romantic notion about this so decided to explore this idea.  As with any project the research was key and also the fact it was a ‘short’ story.  Early on I decided the main character Mary would be child-like at the beginning but later it would be revealed she had dementia.

I have thoroughly enjoyed researching and writing this story.  Char made the third day stimulating and interesting.  Despite not having to read my story out, I still found myself shaking as it was read out.  On reflection I think writing is more personal and exposes you in a way that other art does not.  I found listening to the story out loud useful as I could really hear where I was ‘telling’ rather than ‘showing’.  Also I was as pleased as punch to get positive feedback and also for the story to be interpreted the way I had set out i.e. introducing a young girl.  The ‘show not tell’ feedback was also useful. 

With regard to listening to the rest of the group, I found myself really thinking about what we had learned over the two days and how each writer had applied it in their work.  I was fascinated how each piece of work was so different and each had strengths and qualities that we could learn from.

Overall, a challenging, inspiring and thought provoking few days! Thank-you!

Creative writing day 3 and 4 notes

DAY 3

The first task of the day was a 10-minute free writing exercise.  We had to write the first half of a sentence then pass this onto our neighbor.  Mine was:

The weather outside is raining and …..

I feel so miserable.  I wish I were anywhere but here bit definitely somewhere warmer, especially today.  I suppose the weather is quite fitting to the mood of the today’s event.  I had never been to a court hearing in my life but today it was to be my sons.  I was to stand in the witness stand and testify against my wonderful son.  How did this happen?  He had always been such a bright and happy child.  We were always so proud of him.  He went to Manchester University to study Architecture and that was to be the beginning of the end for Charlie.  He got in with the ‘wrong’ crowd and the nest time he came home to us he appeared to be a stranger.  Although a stranger would have been easier to handle as we would have no history or expectations.  We knew then something was not right but he went back the following term.  The crisis point came much later with a phone call from the Police.  I remember the sinking feeling now..

We discussed what we thought editing was:

·         Punctuation, grammar, improving the readers understanding

·         Pace and tension – add atmosphere. Stays in flow

·         Add more descriptive detail  - to slow pace down

·         Short words and sente­nces -to speed pace up

·         Repetition

·         Cut out the rubbish/noise – any unnecessary text

·         Read it out loud

·         Get someone else to read

·         Adding sensory details

·         The teacup test

·         Beginnings – ensure they make you want to read on, very important, Sells the tone and can set the promise.

·         Check you are showing not telling

Some of the useful tips I picked up through listening to others short stories and poems:

·         Don’t worry if your beginning drags if the rest of the story works.  The beginning is the easiest part to go back and change. 

·         The beginning pulls the reader into the story

·         Setting out the story to mislead the reader can be intriguing

·         Non sequitur is a term used to describe a human trait not ever finishing a thought or is used to describe an irrelevant often humorous thought to a preceding statement or topic.  A technique used by Alan Bennett

·          Believability of characters- think would this character actually say this.

·         Show don’t tell.  Don’t break away from action /present moments in text to tell.

·         Think about the promise

·         Relating themes, scenarios and character personalities

·         Sometime nothing as to happen

·         Leave things out so the reader can use their imagination

·         Leave time for the payoff

Some lines I liked from the stories:

·         Squelch of cobbles

·         Expanse of opportunity and freedom

·         A black hole will eat the sun

·         The light had a massive thunderstorm going on inside it

·         Like shutting down a computer

·         Not the best look

·         Same as any other day

·         There were few things that Luca valued more than food and cartoons

·         Turned his face to the cooler side of the pillow

·         Only the wind called back

·         A torrent of pinks and purples

·         Façade of natural beauty

·         I can’t see Flora brewing her Earl Grey in a wonky teapot.

·         Lured me into a place I felt safe

·         The blue eyed boy who never played the villain

We discussed our clichés and the fact that writers should avoid too many clichés unless they tried to subvert them to trip or surprise the reader. (Make the familiar strange)

The clichés I came up with:

A cliché or cliché is an expression, idea, or element of an artistic work which has been overused to the point of losing its original meaning or effect, rendering it a stereotype, especially when at some earlier time it was considered meaningful or novel

You can’t judge a book by its cover.

That is the best thing since sliced bread

We just have to take out hats off to them

An apple a day keeps the doctor away

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder

You always hurt the one you love

Never poop on your own doorstep

Many hands make light work.

Light at the end of a tunnel

Pull the wool over your eyes

It ain’t over until the fat lady sings

Our group came up with the following subverted Clichés:

The best things in life aren’t things

Plenty more oil in the sea

What doesn’t kill you makes you stranger

Good things come to those who procrastinate

Love has a lazy eye

It ain’t over until Michelle McManus sings

The final piece of free writing:

Having leprosy is great because it is better than dying

Having leprosy is great because I can get better

Having leprosy is great because even though my nose might fall off I won’t be pushing up daisies.

Having leprosy is great because you really appreciate living

Having leprosy is great because I am not contagious

Having leprosy NOW is great because I would have been in a leper colony a thousand years ago

Having leprosy is great because I have loads of new leprosy friends

Having leprosy is great because we share are problems and woes

Having leprosy is great because I have not got cancer

Having leprosy is great because I live for today not tomorrow

Having leprosy is great because it proves beauty is only skin deep, literally.

Having leprosy is great because shit happens

Having leprosy is great because I am alive

Having leprosy is great ….

Think about when your most creative time is (I think mine is definitely late afternoon into the evening)

The photographs were to assist with a group task to come up with a big screen 20^th century Fox film pitch.

We had to consider:

Names and roles of the characters

What’s the promise of the story?

Where?

When?

What’s the story? Motivation?

 Our story called The Race, set in London 2012 Olympics.  The genre was Action/Thriller. Our characters were:

Rebecca aged 22 An American athlete – potentially the best in the world from Idaho

Kate aged 24 An American athlete who has been knocked off her perch Rebecca

Travis An English 20 something who has been stalking Kate for a couple of years

Carlos discovered Rebecca and is now her coach. From San- Francisco

Sangeet – A British undercover detective assigned to monitor Kate’s stalker.  Undercover as a Hotdog vendor salesman

The opening scene will be an American training track where Rebecca is running and being timed by coach.  Basically to introduce the fact that she is predicted to win the gold medal this year.  Another track Kate is being given a mystery envelope which the viewer sees shock her but not revealing content (From Stalker)

The film moves with Olympic Team to London and as story unfolds (48 hours before the race) the stalker is revealed with clips of the undercover detective (not yet revealed as such).  The stalker kidnaps Rebecca who knows she is in trouble when she is thrown in a room covered in Kate photographs and memorabilia. Although the stalkers intention is purely to sabotage the race, the viewer and Rebecca do not know this.  The Olympic Team is petitioned with a ransom note.  It is all kept away from the media The US Olympic team are unsure whether Kate is involved in kidnapping, as there is a bitter rivalry between the two. 

The 100 Meter race is still scheduled for the next day.  Rebecca manages to escape the kidnapper who chases her through the streets of London.  Ranjeet who has been monitoring the stalker realize what is happening and follows hotly on the Stalkers heels.  Ranjeet saves the day, arrests the stalker and delivers Rebecca save and sound with an hour to spare.  She wins the race….

Creative writing - Short story final submission



Finding Mary

She had been running away for so long now that she couldn’t remember why.  The sound of her heart thundered in her ears and she was gasping for breath.  Looking over her shoulder she realised no one was following.  Her pace slowed as she made sense of her surroundings.

The early morning sun was filtering through the silver beech trees that surrounded her.  The golden shafts of light blended with the morning haze to create an enchanting scene.  She wriggled her toes suddenly realising how cold and wet they felt after running through the dew-covered grass.

She flinched; the silence was broken by the cascading song of a chaffinch that seemed to rouse the other birds to join in chorus. Calmness started to flow through her body as the sound of babbling water added to their melody. She realised a stream must be close by and as her ears tuned into the sound, she was guided towards it.

Her pace slowed to a halt as a wondrous haze of blue greeted her.  Majestic bluebells carpeted the woodland floor, weaving their merry way through the glade.  This prompted Mary to think it must be the end of April maybe early May?  Why couldn’t she remember the date or even the day, yet she knew the season for bluebells?  The sound of the water flowing was getting louder so she knew the stream was close now.

The familiarity of the surroundings provided her with a feeling of comfort, which she could not put, her finger on.  She wished Betty were with her now.  She was really clever and her passion for nature meant she knew the names of all the flora and fauna.  Betty would love it here.  In fact, as she saw the stream opening out in front of her, Mary suddenly realised she had been here with Betty many times before. She stood and pondered; where was Betty?  Maybe she was coming later. 

The velvety moss and lush grass banking looked so inviting that Mary felt compelled to lie down. The dampness soaked through the thin cotton fabric covering her back.  She shivered but felt so alive; more alive than she had felt for some time. A sweet scent attracted Mary’s attention.  She spotted clumps of vetch, bracken and pink bistort by her head; however it was the fresh smell of damp soil mixed with these that created the heady scent of spring.  Further away, the sunlight was glinting off dewdrops on a patch of cow parsley, sparkling like diamonds.  Their white flowers, dipping gracefully in the breeze, were as delicate as Chantilly lace.

The white flowers would have provided the perfect camouflage, except their fluttering iridescent wings shimmered in the sunlight.  Mary took a sharp intake of breath and held a hand to her mouth, stifling a gasp.  Her eyes must be playing tricks on her; if only Betty was here to share this moment.  Betty had often speculated about fairies in the Woods but Mary had laughed this off as sheer fantasy.   Two fairies appeared to be playing under the canopy of the cow parsley.  Mary reckoned they were no bigger than her hand.  She stared in wonder, spellbound by their antics. They had the uncanny appearance of a human body but they were pure white, all over.

 A loud croak broke Mary’s reverie. Looking down, she spotted a fat warty toad sat on a rock, not far from her feet.  His bulbous eyes blinked belligerently, obviously offended by her intrusion.  She quickly looked back at the cow parsley, to see the fairies had vanished.  She returned an equally ferocious stare back at the toad, as now she was not sure whether to believe what she had seen.

Sighing, suddenly tired, Mary laid her head back and gazed up through the trees to the blue sky beyond. She allowed herself to be mesmerized by the passing wispy clouds. The sun was getting higher in the sky now and she could feel its gentle heat caress her skin.  She felt her eyelids closing as the soothing sound of the babbling stream started to recede……….

June felt the panic rising from her stomach; she tried to catch it in her throat, where it stayed causing a dull ache. Tears were not going to help now.  She mentally shook herself and tried to remain calm for her granddaughter Millie’s sake.  Millie was quite enjoying these increasingly frequent early morning expeditions. The Doctor had warned us that mum could start wandering in the night or early hours.  She had started to get more confused by the day and this week had been particularly heart breaking.  As I helped her dress she had looked at me through the eyes of a stranger and demanded to know who I was.  Even though we were prepared for this marked decline the inevitability did not ease the pain. 

My Mother Mary had not been the same since Dad died last year. She had started to forget little things like we had just spoken or to bring her washing in which was so unlike her.  She had been such an organised woman. 

She came to live with us just before Christmas.  The final straw had been when she had left an empty pan burning on the hob. So now our roles have reversed and the child becomes the parent.  This is the third time this week her bed was empty at 5am.  I was expecting to find her shivering in her pink nighty with bare feet.

Luckily, she seemed drawn to the woodland glade that was at the bottom of our garden.  As a child, Mum used to play in the woods with her sister Betty.  Unfortunately she seemed to have wandered further this morning, today of all days!  The 1st of May is Mum’s birthday.  We had loads of family coming over to a party in a few hours. Millie smiled up at me and laid a reassuring hand in mine. 

“Mum” I shouted for the umpteenth time.

 “Mary” Millie called, perhaps more sensibly.

We were approaching the stream now; oh no what if she has fallen in? She was getting so frail that she may not have the strength to pull herself out. 

Suddenly, Millie shouted. “Grandma, I can see her, lying by the stream”

I ran with Millie, praying that mum was just asleep but imagining the worst.  I got to her before Millie.  She looked so serene and almost youthful lying with her face turned up to the sun.  Mercifully, I could see her chest rising and falling.  I resisted the urge to shake her awake, not wishing to frighten her.  So gently, I called her name.  Slowly, as her eyes blinked open, she raised her hand to shield them from the sun.

“Who are you?” She demanded, shrinking away from me.

Almost immediately the fear turned to joy as her face broke into an enigmatic smile.  She had spotted Millie behind me.

 “Betty, I knew you would come.  I have got something special to show you.”

As Mum started to pull herself up she held her hand out to Millie.  Millie, who was so much better at this charade than me, happily took her great-grandma’s hand.  Mum’s child-like excitement was infectious.  As she pointed to a patch of cow parsley by the stream, I noticed a couple of orange tipped butterflies fluttering gently nearby.  Mum, bless her, thought they were fairies!  Oh well, it could be worse! Calmness swept over me as I considered the tranquillity of the wooded glade with fresh eyes.  I began to understand why Mum kept returning here.

Gently I held my hand out to Mum, “Mary, come on now, it’s your birthday today and you have presents to open!”  Mum turned to me with a flash of recognition; maybe it was the love in my eyes she responded to. She smiled back and took my hand, as together we all strolled back to the house.

Word count 1343

Creative writing - Short story second draft

Second draft - Finding Mary

She had been running away for so long now that she couldn’t remember why.  The sound of her heart thundered in her ears and she was gasping for breath.  Looking over her shoulder she realised no-one was following.  Her pace slowed as she made sense of her surroundings.

The early morning sun was filtering through the silver beech trees that surrounded her.  The golden shafts of light blended with the morning haze to create an enchanting backdrop.  She wriggled her toes suddenly realising how cold and wet they felt after running through the dew-covered grass.

She flinched; the silence was broken by the cascading song of a chaffinch which seemed to rouse the other birds to join in chorus. Calmness started to flow through her body as the burbling sound of water added to their melody. She realised a stream must be close by and as her ears tuned into the sound, she was guided towards it.

Her pace slowed to a halt as a wondrous haze of blue greeted her.  Majestic bluebells carpeted the woodland floor, weaving their merry way through the glade.  This prompted Mary to think it must be the end of April maybe early May?  Why couldn’t she remember the date or even the day, yet she knew the season for bluebells?  The sound of the water flowing was getting louder so she knew the stream was close now.

What a beautiful natural habitat, virtually untouched by human hand.  The familiarity of the surroundings provided her with a feeling of comfort which she could not put her finger on.  She wished Betty was with her now.  Her sister would know what day it was. She was really clever and her passion for nature meant she knew the names of all the flora and fauna.  Betty would love it here.  In fact, as she saw the stream opening out in front of her, Mary suddenly realised she had been here with Betty many times before. She stood and pondered; where was Betty?  Maybe she was coming later. 

The velvety moss and lush grass banking looked so inviting that Mary felt compelled to lie down. The dampness soaked through the thin cotton fabric covering her back.  She shivered but felt so alive; more alive than she had felt for some time. A sweet scent attracted Mary’s attention.  She spotted clumps of vetch, bracken and pink bistort by her head; however it was the fresh smell of damp soil mixed with these which created the heady scent of spring.  Further away, the sunlight was glinting off dew drops on a patch of cow parsley, sparkling like diamonds.  Their white flowers, dipping gracefully in the breeze, were as delicate as Chantilly lace.

The white flowers should have provided their perfect camouflage, except their fluttering iridescent wings shimmered in the sunlight.  Mary took a sharp intake of breath and held a hand to her mouth, stifling a gasp.  Her eyes must be playing tricks on her; if only Betty was here to share this moment.  Betty had often speculated about fairies in the Woods but Mary had laughed this off as sheer fantasy.   Two fairies appeared to be playing under the canopy of the cow parsley.  Mary reckoned they were no bigger than her hand.  She stared in wonder, spellbound by their antics. They had the uncanny appearance of a human body but they were pure white, all over.

 A loud croak broke Mary’s reverie. Looking down; she spotted a fat warty toad sat on a rock, not far from her feet.  His bulbous eyes blinked belligerently, obviously offended by her intrusion.  She quickly looked back at the cow parsley, the fairies had vanished.  She returned an equally ferocious stare back at the toad, as now she was not sure whether to believe what she had seen.

Sighing, suddenly tired, Mary laid her head back and gazed up through the trees to the blue sky beyond. She allowed herself to be mesmerized by the passing wispy clouds. The sun was getting higher in the sky now and she could feel its gentle heat caress her skin.  She felt her eyelids closing as the soothing sound of the babbling stream started to recede……….

June felt the panic rising from her stomach; she tried to catch it in her throat, where it stayed causing a dull ache. Tears were not going to help now.  She mentally shook herself and tried to remain calm for her granddaughter Millie’s sake.  Millie was quite enjoying these increasingly frequent early morning expeditions. The Doctor had warned us that mum could start wandering in the night or early hours.  She had started to get more confused by the day and this week had been particularly heart breaking.  As I helped her dress she had looked at me through the eyes of a stranger and demanded to know who I was.  Even though we were prepared for this marked decline the inevitability did not ease the pain. 

My Mother Mary had not been the same since Dad died last year. She had started to forget little things like we had just spoken or to bring her washing in which was so unlike her.  She had been such an organised woman.  She had to be running the village shop whilst bringing three children up.  Dad had worked away from home for most of our childhood. 

She came to live with us just before Christmas.  The final straw had been when she had left an empty pan on the hob. Thankfully her neighbour had smelled the burning before anything serious had happened.  So now our roles have reversed and the child becomes the parent.  I am also nanny, nurse and now seeker to boot.  This is the third time this week her bed was empty at 5am.  One problem was mum did not even get dressed, so I was expecting to find her shivering in her pink nighty with bare feet.

Luckily, she seemed drawn to the woodland glade that was at the bottom of our garden.  As a child, Mum used to play in the woods with her sister Betty.  Unfortunately she seemed to have wandered further this morning, today of all days!  The 1st of May is Mum’s birthday.  We had loads of family coming over to a party in a few hours. Millie smiled up at me and laid a reassuring hand in mine. 

“Mum” I shouted for the umpteenth time.

 “Mary” Millie called, perhaps more sensibly.

We were approaching the stream now; oh no I hope she hasn’t fallen in.  She was getting so frail that she may not have the strength to pull herself out. 

Suddenly, Millie shouted. “Grandma, I can see her, lying by the stream”

I ran with Millie, praying that mum was just asleep but imagining the worst.  I got to her before Millie.  She looked so serene and peaceful lying with her face turned up to the sun.  In fact asleep she actually looked much younger. Mercifully, I could see her chest rising and falling.  I resisted the urge to shake her awake not wishing to frighten her.  So gently, I called her name.  Slowly as her eyes blinked open, she raised her hand to shield them from the sun.

“Who are you?” She demanded, shrinking away from me.

Almost immediately the fear turned to joy as her face broke into an enigmatic smile.  She had spotted Millie behind me.

 “Betty, I knew you would come.  I have got something special to show you.”

As Mum started to pull herself up she held her hand out to Millie.  Millie, who was so much better at this than me, happily took her great-grandma’s hand.  The photographs of Betty as a child are testament to the fact that Millie bears a striking resemblance to her, especially the beautiful strawberry blonde curls. Sadly, I had never known my Aunt Betty as she died tragically aged only twenty, the year I was born.  

Mum’s child-like excitement was infectious.  She pointed to a patch of cow parsley by the stream.  I could see a couple of orange tipped butterflies fluttering gently nearby.  Mum, bless her, thought they were fairies!  Oh well, it could be worse. Calmness swept over me as I considered the tranquillity of the wooded glade with fresh eyes.  I began to understand why Mum kept returning here.

Gently I held my hand out to Mum, “Mary, come on now, it’s your birthday today and you have presents to open!”  Mum turned to me with a flash of recognition; maybe it was the love in my eyes she responded to. She smiled back and took my hand, as together we all strolled back to the house.

Creative writing - Short story first draft

First draft

Mary

She had been running away from something for so long now that she couldn’t remember what.  The sound of her heart beating fast thundered in her ears and she was gasping for breath.  Looking over her shoulder she realised no-one was following her.  Her pace slowed as she made sense of her surroundings.

The early morning sun was finding its way through the oak and beech trees that surrounded her.  Beams of sunlight tried to break through the morning haze hovering over the ground.  She wriggled her toes which were feeling cold after getting soaked with the dew which covered the grass she had ran through. 

She started, as the silence was broken by the cheerful sound of a chaffinch chirping his tuneful song which seemed to rouse the other birds to join in.  A feeling of peace and calm flowed through her body as the burbling sound of water reached her ears. She realised a stream must be close by and as her ears tuned into the sound, she was guided towards it.

Her pace slowed to a halt as a wondrous haze of blue greeted her.  The majestic bluebells carpeted the woodland floor, weaving their merry way through the glade.  Mary thought, it must be the end of April maybe early May?  Why couldn’t she remember the date or even the day, yet she knew the season for bluebells.  The water was gushing louder so she knew she was quite close to the stream now.

What a beautiful natural scene, so untouched by human hand.  The familiarity of the surroundings provided her with a feeling of comfort which she could not explain.   She wished Betty was with her now.  Her sister always knew what day it was. She was really clever; Betty loved nature and knew the names of all the flora and fauna.  She would love it here.  In fact, as she saw the stream opening out in front of her, Mary suddenly realised she had been here with Betty many times before. She pondered; wondering where Betty could be. Maybe she was coming later. 

The velvety moss and lush green grass banking looked so inviting that Mary threw herself down on it.  The dampness soaked through the thin cotton covering her back.  She shivered however felt so alive; more alive than she had felt for some time. A sweet scent attracted Mary’s attention.  She noticed the clumps of vetch, bracken and pink bistort by her head, but mixed in with this the fresh smell of damp soil which made the heady scent of spring.  Further away, the sunlight was glinting off the dew drops on a patch of cow parsley, sparkling like diamonds.  Their white flowers, dipping gracefully in the breeze, were as delicate as Chantilly lace.

She wouldn’t have noticed them as the white flowers were the perfect camouflage however the sun beams caught the fluttering iridescent wings.  Mary took a sharp intake of breath and held a hand to her mouth, stifling a gasp.  Her eyes must have been playing tricks on her; if only Betty was here to share this moment.  Betty had often speculated about fairies in the Woods but Mary had laughed this off as sheer fantasy.   Two fairies appeared to be playing under the canopy of the cow parsley.  Mary reckoned they were no bigger than her hand.  She stared in wonder, mesmerised. Their bodies had the uncanny appearance of a human but they were pure white, all over.

 A loud croak broke Mary’s reverie, looking down; she spotted a fat warty toad sat on a rock, not far from her feet.  His bulbous eyes blinked belligerently, obviously offended by her intrusion.  She quickly looked back at the cow parsley, the fairies had gone.  She returned an equally ferocious stare back at the toad, as now she was not sure whether to believe what she had seen.

Sighing, suddenly tired, Mary laid her head back staring up through the trees to the blue sky beyond and allowed the passing wispy clouds to hypnotise her.  The sun was getting higher in the sky now and she could feel its gentle heat caress her skin.  She felt her eyes close as the soothing sound of the babbling stream started to recede…..

June

June felt the panic rising from her stomach; she tried to catch it in her throat, where it stayed causing a dull ache which could trigger tears if she wasn’t careful.  She mentally shook herself and tried to remain calm for her granddaughter Millie’s sake.  Millie had got used to these increasingly frequent early morning expeditions. The Doctor had warned us that mum could start wandering in the night or early hours.  She had started to get more confused by the day and this week had been particularly heart breaking.  As I helped her dress she had looked at me with the eyes of a stranger and demanded to know who I was.  Even though we knew exactly what was going to happen it still did not ease the pain. 

My mother Mary had not been the same since dad died last year.  Then she kept forgetting little things which had been so unlike her.  She had been such an organised woman.  She had to be running the village store whilst bring me and my two brothers up.  Dad had worked away a lot when we were growing up.  Anyway she came to live with me and Michael just before Christmas.  She had left a pan on the hob for we don’t know how long but thankfully her neighbour had smelled burning before anything serious had happened.  So I have become her full time nanny, nurse and seeker to boot.  This is the third time this week her bed was empty at 5am.  Millie had spotted it first this morning.  The trouble was mum did not even get dressed, so I was expecting to find her bare foot in her pink nighty.

Luckily she seemed drawn to the woodland glade that was at the bottom of our garden.  Mum, like me had grown up in this village and she used to play in the woods with her sister Betty.  Unfortunately she seemed to have wandered further today.  It would be today of all days.  The 1st of May was Mum’s birthday.  We had loads of family coming over to a party in a few hours. Millie looked up at me and laid a reassuring hand in mine. 

“Mum” I shouted for the umpteenth time.

 “Mary’ Millie called, perhaps more sensibly.

We were getting near the stream now, oh God I hope she hasn’t fallen in.  She was getting so frail that she probably would not have to strength to pull herself out. 

All of sudden Millie shouted. “Grandma, I can see her there, lying by the stream”

I ran with Millie, praying that mum was just asleep but imagining the worst.  I got to her before Millie.  She looked so serene and peaceful lying with her face turned up to the sun.  In fact in her sleep she actually looked much younger. Thank the lord, I could see her chest rising and falling.  I resisted the urge to shake her awake as I did not want to frighten her.  So gently, I called her name.  Slowly her eyes blinked open and then she raised her hand to shield them from the sun.

“Who are you?” She demanded, shrinking away from me.

Then all of a sudden her face broke into an enigmatic smile, as she spotted Millie behind me.  

“Betty, I knew you would come.  I have got something to show you.”

As Mum started pull herself up she held her hand out to Millie.  Millie who was so much better at this than me happily took her great-grandma’s hand.  We can see from photographs of Betty as a child, that Millie does have a striking resemblance with her beautiful strawberry blonde curls. Sadly, I had never known Betty as she died tragically aged only twenty the year I was born.  

Mum had a child-like excitement about her as she pointed to a patch of cow parsley by the stream.  I could see a couple of orange tipped butterflies fluttering gently nearby.  Mum, bless her, thought they were fairies!  Oh well, it could be worse. A calmness swept over me as I considered the wooded glade with fresh eyes.  I started to understand why mum kept returning here.

Gently I held my hand out to mum, “Mary, come on now, it’s your birthday today and you have presents to open!”  Mum turned to me.  There was a moment of recognition; maybe it was the love in my eyes she responded to. She smiled back and took my hand, as together we all strolled back to the house.