First Book of Short Stories

Lyn Funnell

Description

A collection of easy reading short stories that cover a variety of situations, places and characters. Another Fine Mess, Dining Out, If Britain became the new Venice, My Best Friend Jake and more will keep you entertained while your on the move or reading in bed.

Sujets

• Short story

Informations

• Publié par: Andrews UK
• Date de parution: 10 juillet 2014
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781849893374
• Langue: English

Extrait

Title Page
The First Book
Of
Short Stories


By
Lyn Funnell




Publisher Information

The First Book of Short Stories published in 2011 by
Andrews UK Limited
www.andrewsuk.com

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

The characters and situations in this book are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.

Copyright © Lyn Funnell

The right of Lyn Funnell to be identified as author of this book has been asserted in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988.



Another fine mess…!


They were firmly stuck. In a quagmire, as they say. The thick, dark mud was like glue.
The rain had bucketed down all day, but now it had finally stopped, so it was time to take the eager dog out for a long walk.
‘Come on, Rhubarb!’ Evie had called, reaching the dog’s lead from behind the front door. There was a plopping sound and Evie knew that he’d jumped down from the sofa where he wasn’t allowed to sit, but often did when Evie was out of the room. Then he’d galloped out of the sitting-room and leaped up and down like a yo-yo as she’d tried to clip on his lead. Practically dragging her behind him, he’d dashed out of the door, down the front steps and along the road.
It was beautiful in the woods, which was their favourite walk. The rain still dripped down from the branches and the sun filtered between the trees, making rainbows. Steam rose up from the drying earth. Everywhere was still and quiet, except for the tinkling of raindrops.
But the rain had made some unseen changes in the landscape.
Suddenly Rhubarb had chased a rabbit, and Evie had chased Rhubarb, and now only the tops of her wellies stuck out above the mud. She couldn’t move.
Rhubarb was up to his stomach in it, just out of reach. The mud clung tightly to its victims. They couldn’t move, although it didn’t seem to bother Rhubarb.
‘Okay Rhubarb – YELL!’ Evie ordered.
And they did. Well, Rhubarb barked, of course, his body jerking happily up and down in the mud. He was enjoying himself. He wasn’t usually allowed to bark.
Evie was worried that he was going to sink out of sight under the mud. He wasn’t the brightest canine on the planet; in fact he was very low in the Canine Intelligence Chart. But she loved him dearly and he tried his best to be obedient and make her happy. She attempted again to struggle through the clinging mud to reach him. She stretched out her arm as far as she could. But he was just out of her reach.
Two things occurred at once; the most Gorgeous-Looking, Fantastically Perfect Male materialised, almost out of nowhere, with a camera and binoculars round his neck. Evie gazed at him in disbelief. ‘My hero! I think I’m totally and utterly in love!’ she thought. And then she toppled face-down in the mud, managing to grab Rhubarb’s collar before she landed.
‘Are you stuck?’ asked The Perfect Male, losing a couple of brownie points for asking such a stupid question. Never mind. Nobody’s a hundred percent perfect, especially men, as Evie knew through several bad experiences.
Compared to some of her ex-blokes, Rhubarb was a genius.
‘Yes,’ she said, managing to stand up again and wiping mud over her face with her sleeve. ‘You see, Rhubarb – my dog – chased after a rabbit and got stuck. So I chased after him, and, well, here we are!’ She giggled nervously, about to thrust a finger in her mouth sexily, then deciding against it when she saw the state of her hands.
Rhubarb looked happily from his mistress to The Almost-But-Not-quite Perfect Male, with his tongue dangling out.
‘Okay,’ ordered The Less-Perfect-Every-Time-He-Spoke Male, ‘I’ll go and find a branch or something. Stay there!’
Wot? More brownie points to be deducted, thought Evie as she tried to stay upright and keep hold of Rhubarb at the same time.
The Gorgeous-Looking-But-Not-Perfect Male hurried off through the woods. All went quiet, then sounds of crashing and dragging echoed through the trees and he returned, tugging half a tree behind him.
He pushed it across the mud towards them and Rhubarb scampered across it onto terra firma, where he shook himself over the man’s trousers. The man looked down and breathed deeply, lifting one leg at a time and shaking them. The he took out a clean white hanky from his pocket and wiped most of the mud off. He stared in disgust at the hanky and placed it in his binoculars case.
Evie reached down and, leaning a hand on the branch, managed to heave herself free from the gluey mud.
‘Honestly, I didn’t mean to do it. Really, it was just a spontaneous gesture,’ Evie thought afterwards when she looked back at what happened next.
‘Oh, thank you so much!’ she gushed, ‘You’re my hero! I thought Rhubarb and I were going to die here! You saved our lives!’ The she flung her arms round his neck and kissed him on the lips. Oh, he was even better close-up than he was across the mud! And what a romantic way to meet! She couldn’t wait to tell their children all about it!
But what was happening? Something was seriously wrong here!
Stiff as a mannequin, he glared at her, with his arms by his sides.
Evie backed away, embarrassed. Then the Not-Very-Perfect-After-All Male literally screeched at her, ‘Look at me! Look at my suit! Look at the state of it from you and your dog, you STUPID COW! Do you know how much it cost?’ And he turned and stormed off, disappearing as quickly as he’d materialised.
‘I beg your pardon!’ Evie loudly retorted, but he’d gone. ‘Well,’ she gasped, ‘That really takes the biscuit!’
‘Woof,’ answered a muddy ball, his ears pricking up at the word ‘Biscuit.’ Rhubarb wasn’t completely stupid. He stood with his pink tongue dangling out, happily awaiting instructions – and hopefully, a biscuit.
Evie waited for a few seconds, wondering if the Gorgeous-Looking-But-Far-From-Perfect Male would see the error of his ways and rush back to her arms, or anyway, to just out of reach of her arms, full of apologies.
But of course, he didn’t.
‘Right,’ she sighed firmly, ‘From now on the only male in my life will be hairy with four legs. Come on Rhubarb, let’s go home and get cleaned up. Then we’ll eat lots of chocolate and watch the telly.’
‘Woof,’ Rhubarb agreed, trotting beside her, and wondering for how much longer he’d be allowed to bark.


Dining Out


‘I don’t want to go out tonight, Karl.’
Catherine’s husband looked at her, his face full of concern. ‘What’s the matter, old girl? Feeling a bit off colour?’
She smiled at him. ‘No, I’m fine, dear. But we shouldn’t keep on going out night after night. It’s not right.’
‘Why not? We worked hard all our lives and never received any thanks from anyone. So why shouldn’t we enjoy ourselves now? We deserve it.’
‘Yes,’ she agreed, ‘But – well, supposing something happened – something unexpected? What would we do, Karl?’
‘Now there you go, worrying about nothing again,’ he soothed, ‘What could possibly happen? And we’ve always got this lovely big house to fall back on, haven’t we?’
Catherine nodded. ‘I know. But it would be nice to have something at home for a change.’
‘It’s such a lot of bother though, isn’t it? And I’m only thinking of what’s best for you, my dear.’ Karl smiled lovingly at his wife.
She sighed. ‘I suppose you’re right. But I would like to have an evening at home, just the two of us. And I’ve overdone it a bit lately, so I’m going on a diet.