Fourth April Blog. 6-4-15.
“””You little toerag, I’ll get you for this,” shouted Billy Burman after the retreating figure of Jackie Moste, running down Cobbler Street. Burman shook his fist, then sighed. No way could he and his bouncing belly race after the lad.
He turned, his hands reaching down to rearrange the apples on his market stall. What was the point? He knew Jackie was a wrong ‘un. Always had been into trouble, ever since he was a three year old. Now, at the ripe old age of twelve, and almost a teenger, his boldness knew no bounds.
One apple, well, maybe two or three. Was it really worth the effort of going round to see his mum? A man’s firm hand was what that lad needed. His own, possibly.
Billy had long since had a crush on Melly Moste. He could not deny his passion for her was very real. Often he would fantasize about how well they would be together.
Billy even asked her for a date, once. She gave him short shrift.
But Billy was not to be put off for any length of time and going round to Melly’s after the stall was put away, would be the ideal opportunity to present himself to her again. He had stashed some more cash since last time. A bottle of bubbly, bunch of flowers from Ozzie, a few stalls down the street and he had bought a nice necklace from Moisha in the next road. She would not refuse him now, surely?
The evening sun filtered through the buildings along the street, shedding a warm pink glow over brick and mortar. Up over chimney stacks, past black-paned windows, opened to the sooty, dusty atmosphere that rose from the alleyways, up through the busy thoroughfares, aloft, into the evening sky.
A distinct haze greeted the eyes of anyone gazing upwards to watch the summer swallows weaving, diving, soaring back aloft. Often it rained, but today, a tidal wave of heat swept through the town. Most people were wet, not from rain, but from perspiration.
Billy Burman washed the town dirt and dust from his parched frame. His best clothes were clean and ready to be donned. He sported a new plaid jacket, a gold medalion and chain around his neck, crisp tie and patent leather shoes.
As he locked his door, Billy Burman observed the sky growing darker. Less people around to notice him in his new duds: less catcalls from other stallholders next morning.”””
New ideas, new writings. Not full stories, you understand, but little starters to think on for the future.
Does anyone else do this?
I may never finish these ideas, or I may go on to write a much longer story or novella, even a novel. At this point in time, I cannot tell. However, it is worth noting them down for reference at some later date.
I suppose, if any one of us is tied up with a current project, we might feel that these ideas can wait to be written down/ collected for some time later when we are not involved with a current project. But this could be false economy. We forget details unless we write them down immediately, log them in a journal or an online notepad to be accessed at some point further down the line.
OK, so I may be teaching my granny to suck eggs ( where did that come from?) but in this busy world, it is worth making sure these ideas are close at hand, and, as I said before, accessible.
Hope you all had a great Easter break.
Be careful out there.